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POPULAR    JUVENILE    BOOKS. 

By  HORATIO  ALGER,  Jr. 


BAGGED    DICK    SERIES. 

To  be  completed  in  Six  Volumes. 
I.  RAGGED  DICK;  or,  Street  Life  in  New  York. 
II.  FAME   AND    FORTUNE ;    or,  The   Progress  op   Richard 
Hunter. 

III.  MARK,  THE  MATCH  BOY. 

IV.  ROUGH  AND    READY;    or,   Life  among  the   New  Yore 

Newsboys. 
V.  BEN,  THE  LUGGAGE  BOY;   or,  Among  the  Wharves. 
VI.  RUFUS  AND  ROSE ;    or,    The   Fortunes    of    Rough   awd 

Ready.     (In  December,  1870.) 

Pr ice,    $1.25   per    volume* 


CAMPAIGN    SERIES. 

Complete  in  Three  Vols. 
I.  FRANK'S  CAMPAIGN. 
II.  PAUL  PRESCOTT'S  CHARGE. 
III.  CHARLIE  CODMAN'S  CRUISE. 

Price,    $1.25   per    volume. 


LUCK   AND    PLUCK    SERIES. 

To  be  completed  in  Six  Volumes. 
I.  LUCK  AND  PLUCK  ;  or,  John  Oakley's  Inheritance. 
II.  SINK  OR  SWIM  ;    or,  Harry  Raymond's  Resolve.     (In  No- 
vember, 1870.) 

OTHERS  IN  PREPARATION. 

Price,    $1.50  per   volume. 


7    %-;-/,   ^^lk         iSlfe^" 


:&>•    /.^ 


RAGGED   DICK; 


OB, 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK 


WITH  THE  BOOT-BLACKS. 


BY 

HORATIO    ALGER,    Jr., 

AUTHOR   OF   "FRANK'S   CAMPAIGN,"   "PAUL   FRESCOTT'S    CHARGE;"    "CHARL11 
CODMAN'S   CRUI3E,"    "HELEN   FORD." 


3^C 


LORING,    Publisher, 

319    WASHINGTON    STREET, 

BOSTON.     * 


Entered  according  to  act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1868,  by 
A.    K.    LOEINti, 

In  the  Clerk's  office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District  of 

Massachusetts. 


TO 

JJosEpfj  1^.  ■alien, 

AT    WHOSE     SUGGESTION     THIS     STORY 

WAS    UNDERTAKEN, 

IT    IS 

INSCRIBED    WITH    FRIENDLY    REGARD. 


PREFACE. 


"Kagged  Dick"  was  contributed  as  a  serial  story 
to  the  pages  of  the  Schoolmate,  a  well-known  juvenile 
magazine,  during  the  year  1867.  While  in  course  of 
publication,  it  was  received  with  so  many  evidences  of 
favor  that  it  has  been  rewritten  and  considerably  en- 
larged, and  is  now  presented  to  the  public  as  the  first 
volume  of  a  series  intended  to;  illustrate  the  life  and 
experiences  of  the  friendless  and  vagrant  children  who 
are  now  numbered  by  thousands  in  New  York  and  other 
cities. 

Several  characters  in  the  story  are  sketched  from  life. 
The  necessary  information  has  been  gathered  mainly 
from  personal  observation  and  conversations  with  the 
boys  themselves.  The  author  is  indebted  also  to  the 
excellent  Superintendent  of  the  Newsboys1  Lodging 
House,  in  Fulton  Street,  for  some  facts  of  which  he  has 
been  able  to  make  use.  Some  anachronisms  may  be 
noted.  Wherever  they  occur,  they  have  been  admitted, 
as  aiding  in  the  development  of  the  story,  and  will  prob* 


VIII  PREFACF. 

ably  be  considered  as  of  little  importance  in  an  unpre- 
tending volume,  which  does  not  arp*re  to  strict  historical 
accuracy. 

The  author  hopes  that,  while  the  volumes  in  this  series 
may  prove  interesting  as  stories,  they  v»ay  also  have  the 
effect  of  enlisting  the  sympathies  of  his  readers  in  behalf 
of  the  unfortunate  children  whose  life  is  described,  and 
of  leading  them  to  co-operate*  with  the  praiseworthy 
efforts  now  making  by  the  Children's  Aid  Society  and 
other  organizations  to  ameliorate  their  condition. 

New  York,  iipril,  1868. 


RAGGED    DICK; 

OK, 

STREET    LIFE    IN   NEW   YORK. 

CHAPTER    I. 

RAGGED   DICK  IS   INTRODUCED   TO   THE   READER. 

"  Wake  up  there,  youngster,"  said  a  rough  voice, 

Eagged  Dick  opened  his  eyes  slowly,  and  stared 
stupidly  in  the  face  of  the  speaker,  but  did  not 
offer  to  get  up. 

"  Wake  up,  you  young  vagabond ! "  said  the  man 
a  little  impatiently ;  "  I  suppose  you'd  lay  there  all 
day,  if  I  hadn't  called  you." 

"What  time  is  it?"  asked  Dick. 

"  Seven  o'clock." 

"  Seven  o'clock !  I  oughter  've  been  up  an  hour 
ago.  I  know  what  'twas  made  me  so  precious 
sleepy.  I  went  to  the  Old  Bowery  last  night,  and 
didn't  turn  in  till  past  twelve." 


10  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

"You  went  to  the  Old  Bowery?  Where'd  you 
get  your  money?"  asked  the  man,  who  was  a  porter 
in  the  employ  of  a  firm  doing  business  on  Spruce 
Street. 

"  Made  it  by  shines,  in  course.  My  guardian 
don't  allow  me  no  money  for  theatres,  so  I  have  to 
earn  it." 

"  Some  boys  get  it  easier  than  that,"  said  the 
porter  significantly. 

"  You  don't  catch  me  stealin',  if  that's  what  you 
mean,"  said  Dick. 

"Don't  you  ever  steal,  then?" 

"  No,  and  I  wouldn't.  Lots  of  boys  does  it,  but 
I  wouldn't." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that.  I  believe 
there's  some  good  in  you,  Dick,  after  all." 

"  Oh,  I'm  a  rough  customer !  "  said  Dick.  "  But  I 
wouldn't  steal.     It's  mean." 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so,  Dick,"  and  the  rough 
voice  sounded  gentler  than  at  first.  "  Have  you  got 
any  money  to  buy  your  breakfast  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I'll  soon  get  some." 

While  this  conversation  had  been  going  on,  Dick 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  11 

had  got  up.  His  bedchamber  had  been  a  wooden 
box  half  full  of  straw,  on  which  the  young  boot- 
black had  reposed  his  weary  limbs,  and  slept  as 
soundly  as  if  it  had  been  a  bed  of  down.  He 
dumped  down  into  the  straw  without  taking  the 
trouble  of  undressing.  Getting  up  too  was  an 
equally  short  process.  He  jumped  out  of  the  box, 
shook  himself,  picked  out  one  or  two  straws  that 
had  found  their  way  into  rents  in  his  clothes,  and, 
drawing  a  well-worn  cap  over  his  uncombed  locks, 
he  was  all  ready  for  the  business  of  'the  day. 

Dick's  appearance  as  he  stood  beside  the  box  was 
rather  peculiar.  His  pants  were  torn  in  several 
places,  and  had  apparently  belonged  in  the  first 
instance  to  a  boy  two  sizes  larger  than  himself.  He 
wore  a  vest,  all  the '  buttons  of  which  were  gone 
except  two,  out  of  which  peeped  a  shirt  which 
looked  as  if  it  had  been  worn  a  month.  To  com- 
plete his  costume  he  wore  a  coat  too  long  for  him, 
dating  back,  if  one  might  judge  from  its  general 
appearance,  to  a  remote  antiquity. 

Washing  the  face  and  hands  is  usually  considered 
proper  in  commencing  the  day,  but  Dick  was  above 


12  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

such  refinement.  He  had  no  particular  dislike  to 
dirt,  and  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  remove  several 
dark  streaks  on  his  face  and  hands.  But  in  spite  of 
his  dirt  and  rags  there  was  something  about  Dick 
that  was  attractive.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  if  he 
had  been  clean  and  well  dressed  he  would  have  been 
decidedly  good-looking.  Some  of  his  companions 
were  sly,  and  their  faces  inspired  distrust ;  but  Dick 
had  a  frank,  straight-forward  manner  that  made  him 
a  favorite. 

Dick's  business  hours  had  commenced.  He  had  no 
office  to  open.  His  little  blacking-box  was  ready  for 
use,  and  he  looked  sharply  in  the  faces  of  all  who 
passed,  addressing  each  with,  "  Shine  yer  boots, 
sir?" 

"How  much?"  asked  a  gentleman  on  his  way  to 
his  office. 

"Ten  cents,"  said  Dick,  dropping  his  box,  and 
sinking  upon  his  knees  on  the  sidewalk,  flourishing 
his  brush  with  the  air  of  one  skilled  in  his  profession 

' '  Ten  cents  !     Isn't  that  a  little  steep  ?  " 

"Well,  you  know  'taint  all  clear  profit,"  said 
Dick,  who  had  already  set  to  work.     "There's  the 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  13 

blacking  costs  something,  and  I  have  to  get  a  new 
brush  pretty  often!" 

"And  you  have  a  large  rent  too,"  said  the 
gentleman  quizzically,  with  a  glance  at  a  large  hole 
in  Dick's  coat. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Dick,  always  ready  to  joke;  "I 
have  to  pay  such  a  big  rent  for  my  manshun  up  on 
Fifth  Avenoo,  that  I  can't  afford  to  take  less  than 
ten  cents  a  shine.  I'll  give  you  a  bully  shine, 
sir." 

"  Be  quick  about  it,  for  I  am  in  a  hurry.  So  your 
house  is  on  Fifth  Avenue,  is  it?" 

"It  isn't  anywhere  else,"  said  Dick,  and  Dick 
spoke  the  truth  there. 

"What  tailor  do  you  patronize?"  asked  the 
gentleman,  surveying  Dick's  attire. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  to  the  same  one?"  asked 
Dick,  shrewdly. 

"  Well,  no ;  it  strikes  me  that  he  didn't  give  you 
a  very  good  fit." 

"This  coat  once  belonged  to  General  Wash- 
ington," said  Dick,  comically.  "He  wore  it  all 
through  the  Revolution,  and  it  got  torn  some,  'cause 


14  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

he  fit  so  hard.  When  he  died  he  told  his  wider  to 
give  it  to  some  smart  young  feller  that  hadn't  got 
none  of  his  own ;  so  she  gave  it  to  me.  But  if  you'd 
like  it,  sir,  to  remember  General  "Washington  by,  I'll 
let  you  have  it  reasonable." 

"Thank  you,  but  I  wouldn't  want  to  deprive  you 
of  it.  And  did  your  pants  come  from  General 
Washington  too?" 

"No,  they  was  a  gift  from  Lewis  Napoleon. 
Lewis  had  outgrown  'em  and  sent  'em  to  me,  —  he's 
bigger  than  me,  and  that's  why  they  don't  fit." 

"  It  seems  you  have  distinguished  friends.  Now, 
my  lad,  I  suppose  you  would  like  your  money." 

"  I  shouldn't  have  any  objection,"  said  Dick. 

"I  believe,"  said  the  gentleman,  examining  his 
pocket-book,  "  I  haven't  got  anything  short  of 
twenty-five  cents.     Have  you  got  any  change?" 

"Not  a  cent,"  said  Dick.  "All  my  money's 
invested  in  the  Erie  Railroad." 

"  That's  unfortunate." 

"  Shall  I  get  the  money  changed,  sir?" 

"I  can't  wait;  I've  got  to  meet  an  appointment 
immediately.     I'll  hand  you  twenty-five  cents,  and 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  15 

you  can  leave  the  change  at  my  office  any  time 
during  the  day." 

"All  right,  sir.     Where  is  it?" 

"No.  125  Fulton  Street.     Shall  you  remember ? " 

"  Yes,  sir.     What  name  ?  " 

"  Greyson,  —  office  on  second  floor." 

"  All  right,  sir ;  I'll  bring  it." 

"  I  wonder  whether  the  little  scamp  will  prove 
honest,"  said  Mr.  Greyson  to  himself,  as  he  walked 
away.  "  If  he  does,  I'll  give  him  my  custom  regu- 
larly. If  he  don't,  as  is  most  likely,  I  shan't  mind 
the  loss  of  fifteen  cents." 

Mr.  Greyson  didn't  understand  Dick.  Our  ragged 
hero  wasn't  a  model  boy  in  all  respects.  I  am  afraid 
he  swore  sometimes,  and  now  and  then  he  played 
tricks  upon  unsophisticated  boys  from  the  country, 
or  gave  a  wrong  direction  to  honest  old  gentlemen 
unused  to  the  city.  A  clergyman  in  search  of  the 
Cooper  Institute  he  once  directed  to  the  Tombs 
Prison,  and,  following  him  unobserved,  was  highly 
delighted  when  the  unsuspicious  stranger  walked  up 
the  front  steps  of  the  great  stone  building  on  Centre 
Street,  and  tried  to  obtain  admission. 


16  RAGGED   DICK;    OB, 

"I  guess  he  wouldn't  want  to  stay  long  if  lie  did 
get  in,"  thought  Ragged  Dick,  hitching  up  his  pants. 
"  Leastways  I  shouldn't.  They're  so  precious  glad 
to  see  you  that  they  won't  let  you  go,  but  board  you 
gratooitous,  and  never  send  in  no  bills." 

Another  of  Dick's  faults  was  his  extravagance. 
Being  always  wide-awake  and  ready  for  business,  he 
earned  enough  to  have  supported  him  comfortably 
and  respectably.  There  were  not  a  few  young  clerks 
who  employed  Dick  from  time  to  time  in  his  profes- 
sional capacity,  who  scarcely  earned  as  much  as 
he,  greatly  as  their  style  and  dress  exceeded  his. 
But  Dick  was  careless  of  his  earnings.  Where  they 
went  he  could  hardly  have  told  himself.  However 
much  he  managed  to  earn  during  the  day,  all  was 
generally  spent  before  morning.  He  was  fond  of 
going  to  the  Old  Bowery  Theatre,  and  to  Tony 
Pastor's,  and  if  he  had  any  money  left  afterwards, 
he  would  invite  some  of  his  friends  in  somewhere  to 
have  an  oyster  stew ;  so  it  seldom  happened  that  he 
commenced  the  day  with  a  penny. 

Then  I  am  sorry  to  add  that  Dick  had  formed  the 
habit  of  smoking.     This  cost  him  considerable,  for 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  17 

Dick  was  rather  fastidious  about  his  cigars,  and 
wouldn't  smoke  the  cheapest.  Besides,  having  a 
liberal  nature,  he  was  generally  ready  to  treat  his 
companions.  But  of  course  the  expense  was  the 
smallest  objection.  No  boy  of  fourteen  can  smoke 
without  being  affected  injuriously.  Men  are  fre- 
quently injured  by  smoking,  and  boys  always.  But 
large  numbers  of  the  newsboys  and  boot-blacks  form 
the  habit.  Exposed  to  the  cold  and  wet  they  find 
that  it  warms  them  up,  and  the  self-indulgence  grows 
upon  them.  It  is  not  uncommon  to  see  a  little  boy, 
too  young  to  be  out  of  his  mother's  sight,  smoking 
with  all  the  apparent  satisfaction  of  a  veteran 
smoker. 

There  was  another  way  in  which  Dick  sometimes 
lost  money.  There  was  a  noted  gambling-house  on 
Baxter  Street,  which  in  the  evening  was  sometimes 
crowded  with  these  juvenile  gamesters,  who  staked 
their  hard  earnings,  generally  losing  of  course,  and 
refreshing  themselves  from  time  to  time  with  a  vile 
mixture  of  liquor  at  two  cents  a  glass.  Sometimes 
Dick  strayed  in  here,  and  played  with  the  rest. 

I    have    mentioned    Dick's    faults    and    defects, 


18  RAGGED  DICK;   OB, 

because  I  want  it  understood,  to  begin  with,  that 
I  don't  consider  him  a  model  boy.  But  there  were 
some  good  points  about  him  nevertheless.  He  was 
above  doing  anything  mean  or  dishonorable.  He 
would  not  steal,  or  cheat,  or  impose  upon  younger 
boys,  but  was  frank  and  straight-forward,  manly  and 
self-reliant.  His  nature  was  a  noble  one,  and  had 
saved  him  from  all  mean  faults.  I  hope  my  young 
readers  will  like  him  as  I  do,  without  being  blind  to 
his  faults.  Perhaps,  although  he  was  only  a  boot- 
black, they  may  find  something  in  him  to  imitate. 
And  now,  having  fairly  introduced  Ragged  Dick 
to  my  young  readers,  I  must  refer  them  to  th».  next 
chapter  for  his  further  adventures. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  19 


CHAPTER    II. 

JOHNNY  NOLAN. 

After  Dick  had  finished  polishing  Mr.  Greyson's 
boots  he  was  fortunate  enough  to  secure  three  other 
customers,  two  of  them  reporters  in  the  Tribune 
establishment,  which  occupies  the  corner  of  Spruce 
Street  and  Printing  House  Square. 

When  Dick  had  got  through  with  his  last  customer 
the  City  Hall  clock  indicated  eight  o'clock.  He  had 
been  up  an  hour,  and  hard  at  work,  and  naturally 
began  to  think  of  breakfast.  He  went  up  to  the 
head  of  Spruce  Street,  and  turned  into  Nassau. 
Two  blocks  further,  and  he  reached  Ann  Street. 
On  this  street  was  a  small,  cheap  restaurant,  where 
for  five  cents  Dick  could  get  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  for 
ten  cents  more,  a  plate  of  beef-steak  with  a  plate  of 
bread  thrown  in.  These  Dick  ordered,  and  sat  down 
at  a  table. 

It  was  a  small  apartment  with  a  few  plain  tables 


20  RAGGED  DICK;    O/J, 

unprovided  with  cloths,  for  the  class  of  customers 
who  patronized  it  were  not  very  particular.  Our 
hero's  breakfast  was  soon  before  him.  Neither  the 
coffee  nor  the  steak  were  as  good  as  can  be  bought  at 
Delmonico's  ;  but  then  it  is  very  doubtful  whether,  in 
the  present  state  of  his  wardrobe,  Dick  would  have 
been  received  at  that  aristocratic  restaurant,  even  if 
his  "means  had  admitted  of  paying  the  high  prices 
there  charged. 

Dick  had  scarcely  been  served  when  he  espied  a 
boy  about  his  own  size  standing  at  the  door,  looking 
wistfully  into  the  restaurant.  This  was  Johnny 
Nolan,  a  boy  of  fourteen,  who  was  engaged  in  the 
same  profession  as  Ragged  Dick.  His  wardrobe 
was  in  very  much  the  same  condition  as  Dick's. 

"Had  your  breakfast,  Johnny?"  inquired  Dick, 
cutting  off  a  piece  of  steak. 

"No." 

"  Come  in,  then.     Here's  room  for  you." 

"I  aint  got  no  money,"  said  Johnny,  looking  a 
little  enviously  at  his  more  fortunate  friend. 

"Haven't  you  had  any  shines  ?  " 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  21 

"  Yes,  I  had  one,  but  I  shan't  get  any  pay  till 
to-morrow." 

"  Are  you  hungry  ?  " 

"  Try  me,  and  see." 

"  Come  in.     I'll  stand  treat  this  morning." 

Johnny  Nolan  was  nowise  slow  to  accept  this 
invitation,  and  was  soon  seated  beside  Dick. 

"  What'll  you  have,  Johnny? " 

"  Same  as  you." 

"  Cup  o'  coffee  and  beefsteak,"  ordered  Dick. 

These  were  promptly  brought,  and  Johnny  at- 
tacked them  vigorously. 

Now,  in  the  boot-blacking  business,  as  well  as  in 
higher  avocations,  the  same  rule  prevails,  that 
energy  and  industry  are  rewarded,  and  indolence 
suffers.  Dick  was  energetic  and  on  the  alert  for 
business,  but  Johnny  the  reverse.  The  consequence 
was  that  Dick  earned  probably  three  times  as  much 
as  the  other. 

"How  do  you  like  it?"  asked  Dick,  surveying 
Johnny's  attacks  upon  the  steak  with  evident 
complacency. 

"  It's  hunky." 


22  MAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

I  don't  believe  "hunky"  is  to  be  found  in  either 
Webster's  or  Worcester's  big  dictionary ;  but  boys 
will  readily  understand  what  it  means. 

"  Do  you  come  here  often?"  asked  Johnny. 

"  Most  every  day.    You'd  better  come  too." 

"  I  can't  afford  it." 

"  Well,  you'd  ought  to,  then,"  said  Dick.  "  What 
do  you  do  with  your  money,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"  I  don't  get  near  as  much  as  you,  Dick." 

"  Well,  you  might  if  you  tried.  I  keep  my  eyes 
open,  —  that's  the  way  I  get  jobs.  You're  lazy, 
that's  what's  the  matter." 

Johnny  did  not  see  fit  to  reply  to  this  charge. 
Probably  he  felt  the  justice  of  it,  and  preferred  to 
proceed  with  the  breakfast,  which  he  enjoyed  the 
more  as  it  cost  him  nothing. 

Breakfast  over,  Dick  walked  up  to  the  desk,  and 
settled  the  bill.  Then,  followed  by  Johnny,  he  went 
out  into  the  street. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Johnny?" 

"  Up  to  Mr.  Taylor's,  on  Spruce  Street,  to  see  if 
he  don't  want  a  shine." 

"  Do  you  work  for  him  reg'lar  ?" 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YOUK.  23 

"  Yes.  Him  and  his  partner  wants  a  shine  most 
every  day.     Where  are  you  goin'  ?  " 

"Down  front  of  the  Astor  House.  I  guess  I'll 
find  some  customers  there." 

At  this  moment  Johnny  started,  and,  dodging  into 
an  entry  way,  hid  behind  the  door,  considerably  to 
Dick's  surprise. 

"  What's  the  matter  now?"  asked  our  hero. 

"Has  he  gone?"  asked  Johnny,  his  voice  betray- 
ing anxiety. 

"  Who  gone,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

"  That  man  in  the  brown  coat." 
•    "What  of  him.     You   aint   scared  of   him,  are 
you?" 

"  Yes,  he  got  me  a  place  once." 

"Where?" 

"  Ever  so  far  off." 

"What  if  he  did?" 

"  I  ran  away." 

"Didn't  you  like?" 

"  No,  I  had  to  get  up  too  early.  It  was  on  a 
farm,  and  I  had  to  get  up  at  five  to  take  care  of  the 
cows.     I  like  New  York  best." 


24  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

"Didn't  they  give  you  enough  to  eat?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  plentjr." 

"  And  you  had  a  good  bed  ?  " 

"Yes."     . 

"Then  you'd  better  have  stayed.  You  don't  get 
either  of  them  here.  Where' d  you  sleep  last 
night?" 

"  Up  an  alley  in  an  old  wagon." 

"  You  had  a  better  bed  than  that  in  the  country, 
didn't  you?" 

"  Yes,  it  was  as  soft  as  —  as  cotton." 

Johnny  had  once  slept  on  a  bale  of  cotton,  the 
recollection  supplying  him  with  a  comparison. 

"Why  didn't  you  stay?" 

"  I  felt  lonely,"  said  Johnny. 

Johnny  could  not  exactly  explain  his  feelings,  but 
it  is  often  the  case  that  the  young  vagabond  of  the 
streets,  though  his  food  is  uncertain,  and  his  bed 
may  be  any  old  wagon  or  barrel  that  he  is  lucky 
enough  to  find  unoccupied  when  night  sets  in,  gets 
so  attached  to  his  precarious  but  independent  mode 
of  life,  that  he  feels  discontented  *n  any  other.  He 
is  accustomed  to  the  noise  and  bustle  and  ever-varied 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW  YORK.  25 

life  of  the  streets,  and  in  the  quiet  scenes  of  the 
country  misses  the  excitement  in  the  midst  of  which 
he  has  always  dwelt. 

Johnny  had  but  one  tie  to  bind  him  to  the  city. 
He  had  a  father  living,  but  he  might  as  well  have 
been  without  one.  Mr.  Nolan  was  a  confirmed 
drunkard,  and  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  wages 
for  liquor.  His  potations  made  him  ugly,  and 
inflamed  a  temper  never  very  sweet,  working  him  up 
sometimes  to  such  a  pitch  of  rage  that  Johnny's  life 
was  in  danger.  Some  months  before,  he  had  thrown 
a  flat-iron  at  his  son's  head  with  such  terrific  force 
that  unless  Johnny  had  dodged  he  would  not  have 
lived  long  enough  to  obtain  a  place  in  our  story. 
He  fled  the  house,  and  from  that  time  had  not  dared 
to  re-enter  it.  Somebody  had  given  him  a  brush  and 
box  of  blacking,  and  he  had  set  up  in  business  on 
his  own  account.  But  he  had  not  energy  enough  to 
succeed,  as  has  already  been  stated,  and  I  am  afraid 
the  poor  boy  had  met  with  many  hardships,  and 
suffered  more  than  once  from  cold  and  hunger.  Dick 
had  befriended  him  more  than  once,  and  often  given 
him  a  breakfast  or  dinner,  as  the  case  might  be. 


26  RAGGED  DICK;    OB, 

"  How'd  you  get  away  ? "  asked  Dick,  with  some 
curiosity.     ' '  Did  you  walk  ?  " 

"  No,  I  rode  on  the  cars." 

"Where'd  you  get  your  money?  I  hope  you 
didn't  steal  it." 

"  I  didn't  have  none." 

"  What  did  you  do,  then?" 

"I  got  up  about  three  o'clock,  and  walked  to 
Albany." 

"Where's  that?"  asked  Dick,  whose  ideas  on  the 
subject  of  geography  were  rather  vague. 

"  Up  the  river." 

"How  far?" 

"About  a  thousand  miles,"  said  Johnny,  whose 
Conceptions  of  distance  were  equally  vague. 

"  Go  ahead.     What  did  you  do  then? " 

"  I  hid  on  top  of  a  freight  car,  and  came  all  the 
way  without  their  seeing  me.*  That  man  in  the 
brown  coat  was  the  man  that  got  me  the  place,  and 
I'm  afraid  he'd  want  to  send  me  back." 

"  Well,"  said  Dick,  reflectively,  "  I  dunno  as  I'd 
like  to  live  in  the  country.    I  couldn't  go  to  Tony 

*  A  fact. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  27 

Pastor's,  or  the  Old  Bowery.  There  wouldn't  be  no 
place  to  spend  my  evenings.  But  I  say,  it's  tough  in 
winter,  Johnny,  'specially  when  your  overcoat's  at 
the  tailor's,  an'  likely  to  stay  there." 

"That's  so,  Dick.  But  I  must  be  goin',  or  Mr. 
Taylor'll  get  somebody  else  to  shine  his  boots." 

Johnny  walked  back  to  Nassau  Street,  while  Dick 
kept  on  his  way  to  Broadway. 

"  That  boy,"  soliloquized  Dick,  as  Johnny  took 
his  departure,  "  aint  got  no  ambition.  I'll  bet  he 
won't  get  five  shines  to-day.  I'm  glad  I  aint  like 
him.  I  couldn't  go  to  the  theatre,  nor  buy  no  cigars, 
nor  get  half  as  much  as  I  wanted  to  eat.  —  Shine  yer 
boots,  sir?" 

Dick  always  had  an  eye  to  business,  and  this 
remark  was  addressed  to  a  young  man,  dressed  in  a 
stylish  manner,  who  was  swinging  a  jaunty  cane. 

"  I've  had  my  boots  blacked  once  already  this 
morning,  but  this  confounded  mud  has  spoiled  the 
shine." 

"  I'll  make  'em  all  right,  sir,  in  a  minute." 

"  Go  ahead,  then." 

The  boots  were  soon  polished  in  Dick's  best  style, 


28  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

which  proved  very  satisfactory,  our  hero  being  a  pro 
ficient  in  the  art. 

"  1  haven't  got  any  change,"  said  the  young  man, 
fumbling  in  his  pocket,  "  but  here's  a  bill  you  may 
run  somewhere  and  get  changed.  I'll  pay  you  five 
cents  extra  for  your  trouble." 

He  handed  Dick  a  two-dollar  bill,  which  our  hero 
took  into  a  store  close  by. 

"Will  you  please  change  that,  sir?"  said  Dick, 
walking  up  to  the  counter. 

The  salesman  to  whom  he  proffered  it  took  the 
bill,  and,  slightly  glancing  at  it,  exclaimed  angrily, 
"  Be  off,  you  young  vagabond,  or  I'll  have  you 
arrested." 

"What's  the  row?" 

"  You've  offered  me  a  counterfeit  bill." 

"  I  didn't  know  it,"  said  Dick.    * 

"  Don't  tell  me.    Be  off,  or  I'll  have  you  arrested." 


STREET   LIFE    IN  NEW  YORK.  29 


CHAPTER    III. 

DICK  MAKES  A  PROPOSITION. 

Though  Dick  was  somewhat  startled  at  discover- 
ing that  the  bill  he  had  offered  was  counterfeit,  he 
stood  his  ground  bravely. 

"  Clear  out  of  this  shop,  you  young  vagabond," 
repeated  the  clerk. 

"  Then  give  me  back  my  bill." 

"  That  you  may  pass  it  again?  Mo,  sir,  I  shall  do 
no  such  thing." 

"  It  doesn't  belong  to  me,"  said  Dick.  "A  gentle- 
man that  owes  me  for  a  shine  gave  it  to  me  to 
change." 

»  A  likely  story,"  said  the  clerk ;  but  he  seemed  a 

little  uneasy. 

"  I'll  go  and  call  him,"  said  Dick. 

He  went  out,  and  found  his  late  customer  standing 
on  the  Astor  House  steps. 

"Well,   youngster,  have    you  brought    back  my 


30  RAGGED  DICK,    vJt, 

change  ?    You  were  a  precious  long  time  about  it.    I 
began  to  think  you  had  cleared  out  with  the  money." 

"  That  aint  my  style,"  said  Dick,  proudly. 

"  Then  where' s  the  change?  " 

"  I  haven't  got  it." 

"  Where's  the  bill  then?" 

"  I  haven't  got  that  either." 

"  You  young  rascal ! " 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,  mister,"  said  Dick,  "  and  I'll 
tell  you  all  about  it.  The  man  what  took  the  bill 
said  it  wasn't  good,  and  kept  it." 

"  The  bill  was  pei-fectly  good.  So  he  kept  it,  did 
he  ?  I'll  go  with  you  to  the  store,  and  see  whether 
he  won't  give  it  back  to  me." 

Dick  led  the  way,  and  the  gentleman  followed  him 
into  the  store.  At  the  reappearance  of  Dick  in  such 
company,  the  clerk  flushed  a  little,  and  looked  ner- 
vous. He  fancied  that  he  could  browbeat  a  ragged 
boot-black,  but  with  a  gentleman  he  saw  that  it  would 
be  a  different  matter.  He  did  not  seem  to  notice  the 
new-comers,  but  began  to  replace  some  goods  on  the 
shelves. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  31 

"  Now,"  said  the  young  man,  "  point  out  the  clerk 
that  has  my  money .'*- 

"That's  him,"  said  Dick,  pointing  out  the  clerk. 

The  gentleman  walked  up  to  the  counter. 

"  I  will  trouble  you,"  he  said  a  little  haughtily, 
"  for  a  bill  which  that  boy  offered  you,  and  which  you 
still  hold  in  your  possession." 

"It  was  a  bad  bill,"  said  the  clerk,  his  cheek  flush- 
ing, and  his  manner  nervous. 

"  It  was  no  such  thing.  I  require  you  to  produce 
it,  and  let  the  matter  be  decided." 

The  clerk  fumbled  in  his  vest-pocket,  and  drew  out 
a  bad-looking  bill. 

"  This  is  a  bad  bill,  but  it  is  not  the  one  I  gave 
the  boy." 

"  It  is  the  one  he  gave  me." 

The  young  man  looked  doubtful. 

"  Boy,"  he  said  to  Dick,  "is  this  the  bill  you  gave 
to  be  changed  ?  " 

"  No,  it  isn't." 

"  You  lie,  you  young  rascal !  "  exclaimed  the  clerk, 
who  began  to  find  himself  in  a  tight  place,  aad  could 
not  see  the  way  out. 


32  bagged  dick;  OS, 

This  scene  naturally  attracted  the  attention  of  all 
in  the  store,  and  the  proprietor  walked  up  from  the 
lower  end,  where  he  had  been  busy. 

"  What's  all  this,  Mr.  Hatch?"  he  demanded. 

"  That  boy,"  said  the  clerk,  "  came  in  and  asked 
cnange  for  a  bad  bill.  I  kept  the  bill,  and  told  him 
to  clear  out.  Now  he  wants  it  again  to  pass  ou 
somebody  else." 

"  Show  the  bill." 

The  merchant  looked  at  it.  "  Yes,  that's  a  bad 
bill,"  he  said.     "  There  is  no  doubt  about  that." 

"  But  it  is  not  the  one  the  boy  offered,"  said  Dick's 
patron.  "  It  is  one  of  the  same  denomination,  but  on 
a  different  bank." 

"  Do  you  remember  what  bank  it  was  on?" 

"  It  was  on  the  Merchants'  Bank  of  Boston." 

"  Are  you  sure  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  am." 

"  Perhaps  the  boy  kept  it  and  offered  the  other." 

"  You  may  search  me  if  you  want  to,"  said  Dick, 
indignantly. 

"  He  doesn't  look  as  if  he  was  likely  to  have  any 
extra  bills.    I  suspect  that  your  clerk  pocketed  the 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  33 

good  bill,  and  has  substituted  the  counterfeit  note. 
It  is  a  nice  little  scheme  of  his  for  making  money." 

"  I  haven't  seen  any  bill  on  the  Merchants'  Bank," 
said  the  clerk,  doggedly. 

"  You  had  better  feel  in  your  pockets." 

"  This  matter  must  be  investigated,"  said  the  mer- 
chant, firmly.     "  If  you  have  the  bill,  produce  it." 

"  I  haven't  got  it,"  said  the  clerk ;  but  he  looked 
guilty  notwithstanding. 

"I  demand  that  he  be  searched,"  said  Dick's 
patron. 

"  I  tell  you  I  haven't  got  it." 

"  Shall  I  send  for  a  police  officer,  Mr.  Hatch,  or 
will  you  allow  yourself  to  be  searched  quietly  ?  "  said 
the  merchant. 

Alarmed  at  the  threat  implied  in  these  words,  the 
clerk  put  his  hand  into  his  vest-pocket,  and  drew  out 
a  two-dollar  bill  on  the  Merchants'  Bank. 

"  Is  this  your  note?"  asked  the  shopkeeper,  show- 
ing it  to  the  young  man. 

"  It  is." 

"  I  must  have  made  a  mistake,"  faltered  the  clerk. 

"  I  shall  not  give  you  a  chance  to  make  such  an- 
il 


34  RAGGED   DICK;   Oi?, 

other  mistake  in  my  employ,"  said  the  merchant 
sternly.  "  You  may  go  up  to  the  desk  and  ask  for 
what  wages  are  due  you.  I  shall  have  no  further 
occasion  for  your  services." 

"  Now,  youngster,"  said  Dick's  patron,  as  they 
went  out  of  the  store,  after  he  had  finally  got  the  bill 
changed.  "  I  must  pay  you  something  extra  for 
your  trouble.     Here's  fifty  cents." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Dick.  "  You're  very  kind. 
Don't  you  want  some  more  bills  changed  ?  " 

"  Not  to-day,"  said  he  with  a  smile.  "  It's  too  ex- 
pensive." 

"  I'm  in  luck,"  thought  our  hero  complacently.  "  I 
guess  I'll  go  to  Barnum's  to-night,  and  see  the 
bearded  lady,  the  eight-foot  giant,  the  two-foot  dwarf, 
and  the  other  curiosities,  too  numerous  to  mention." 

Dick  shouldered  his  box  and  walked  up  as  far  as 
the  Astor  House.  He  took  his  station  on  the  side- 
walk, and  began  to  look  about  him. 

Just  behind  him  were  two  persons,  —  one,  a  gentle- 
man of  fifty  ;  the  other,  a  boy  of  thirteen  or  fourteen. 
They  were  speaking  together,  and  Dick  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  hearing  what  was  said. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  35 

"  I  am  sorry,  Frank,  that  I  can't  go  about,  and 
show  you  some  of  the  sights  of  New  York,  but  I  shall 
be  full  of  business  to-day.  It  is  your  first  visit  to 
the  city  too. " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  There's  a  good  deal  worth  seeing  here.  But  I'm 
afraid  you'll  have  to  wait  till  next  time.  You  can 
go  out  and  walk  by  yourself,  but  don't  venture  too 
far,  or  you  may  get  lost." 

Frank  looked  disappointed. 

"  I  wish  Tom  Miles  knew  I  was  here,"  he  said. 
"  He  would  go  around  with  me." 

"  Where  does  he  live?" 

"  Somewhere  up  town,  I  believe." 

"  Then,  unfortunately,  he  is  not  available.  If  you 
would  rather  go  with  me  than  stay  here,  you  can,  but 
as  I  shall  be  most  of  the  time  in  merchants'  counting- 
rooms,  I  am  afraid  it  would  not  be  very  interesting." 

"  I  think,"  said  Frank,  after  a  little  hesitation, 
"  that  I  will  go  off  by  myself.  I  won't  go  very  far, 
and  if  I  lose  my  way,  I  will  inquire  for  the  Astor 
House." 

"  Yes,  anybody  will  direct  you  here." 


36  LAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

"  Very  well,  Frank,  I  am  sorry  I  can't  do  better 
for  you." 

"  Oh,  never  mind,  uncle,  I  shall  be  amused  in  walk- 
ing around,  and  looking  at  the  shop-windows.  There 
will  be  a  great  deal  to  see." 

Now  Dick  had  listened  to  all  this  conversation. 
Being  an  enterprising  young  man,  he  thought  he  saw 
a  chance  for  a  speculation,  and  determined  to  avail 
himself  of  it. 

Accordingly  he  stepped  up  to  the  two  just  as 
Frank's  uncle  was  about  leaving,  and  said,  "  I  know 
all  about  the  city,  sir ;  I'll  show  him  around,  if  you 
want  me  too." 

The  gentleman  looked  a  little  curiously  at  the  rag- 
ged figure  before  him. 

"  So  you  are  a  city  boy,  are  you?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Dick,  "I've  lived  here  ever  since 
I  was  a  baby." 

"  And  you  know  all  about  the  public  buildings,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  tie  Central  Park  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  know  my  way  all  round." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  37 

The  gentleman  looked  thoughtful. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  Frank,"  he  remarked 
after  a  while.  "  It  is  rather  a  novel  proposal.  He 
isn't  exactly  the  sort  of  guide  I  would  have  picked 
out  for  you.  Still  he  looks  honest.  He  has  an  open 
face,  and  I  think  can  be  depended  upon." 

"I  wish  he  wasn't  so  ragged  and  dirty,"  said 
Frank,  who  felt  a  little  shy  about  being  seen  with 
such  a  companion. 

"I'm  afraid  you  haven't  washed  your  face  this 
morning,"  said  Mr.  Whitney,  for  that  was  the  gentle- 
man's name. 

"They  didn't  have  no  wash-bowls  at  the  hotel 
where  I  stopped,"  said  Dick. 

"  What  hotel  did  you  stop  at?" 

"  The  Box  Hotel." 

"The  Box  Hotel?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  slept  in  a  box  on  Spruce  Street." 

Frank  surveyed  Dick  curiously. 

"  How  did  you  like  it?"  he  asked. 

"  I  slept  bully." 

"  Suppose  it  had  rained?" 

"  Then  I'd  have  wet  my  best  clothes,"  said  Dick. 


38  RAGGET>    DICK;    OR, 

"Are  these  all  the  clothes  you  have?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

Mr.  "Whitney  spoke  a  few  words  to  Frank,  who 
seemed  pleased  with  the  suggestion. 

"  Follow  me,  my  lad,"  he  said. 

Dick  in  some  surprise  obeyed  orders,  following 
Mr.  Whitney  and  Frank  into  the  hotel,  past  the 
office,  to  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  Here  a  servant 
of  the  hotel  stopped  Dick,  but  Mr.  Whitney  ex- 
plained that  he  had  something  for  him  to  do,  and 
he  was  allowed  to  proceed. 

They  entered  a  long  entry,  and  finally  paused 
before  a  door.  This  being  opened  a  pleasant  cham- 
ber was  disclosed. " 

"  Come  in,  my  lad,"  said  Mr.  Whitney 

Dick  and  Frank  entered. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  39 


.CHAPTER   IV. 

dick's  new  suit. 

"Now,'  said  Mr.  Whitney  to  Dick,  "my  nephew 
here  is  on  his  way  to  a  boarding-school.  He  had  a 
suit  of  clothes  in  his  trunk  about  half  worn.  He  is 
willing  to  give  them  to  you.  I  think  they  will  look 
better  than  those  you  have  on." 

Dick  was  so  astonished  that  he  hardly  knew 
what  to  say.  Presents  were  something  that  he  knew 
very  little  about,  never  having  received  any  to  his 
knowledge.  That  so  large  a  gift  should  be  made  to 
him  by  a  stranger  seemed  very  wonderful. 

The  clothes  were  brought  out,  and  turned  out  to 
be  a  neat  gray  suit. 

"  Before  you  put  them  on,  my  lad,  you  must 
wash  yourself.  Clean  clothes  and  a  dirty  skin 
don't  go  very  well  together.  Frank,  you  may  attend 
to  him.  I  am  obliged  to  go  at  once.  Have  you  got 
as  much  money  as  you  require?" 


40  ragged  dick;  or, 

"  Yes,  uncle." 

"  One  more  word,  my  lad,"  said  Mr.  Whitney, 
addressing  Dick ;  "  I  may  be  rash  in  trusting  a  boy 
of  whom  I  know  nothing,  but  I  like  your  looks,  and 
I  think  you  will  prove  a  proper  guide  for  my 
nephew." 

"  Yes,  I  will,  sir,"  said  Dick,  earnestly.  "  Honor 
bright ! " 

"  Very  well.    A  pleasant  time  to  you." 

The  process  of  cleansing  commenced.  To  tell  the 
truth  Dick  needed  it,  and  the  sensation  of  cleanliness 
he  found  both  new  and  pleasant.  Frank  added  to 
his  gift  a  shirt,  stockings,  and  an  old  pair  of  shoes. 
"  I  am  sorry  I  haven't  any  cap,"  said  he. 

"  I've  got  one,"  said  Dick. 

"  It  isn't  so  new  as  it  might  be,"  said  Frank,  sur- 
veying an  old  felt  hat,  which  had  once  been  black, 
but  was  now  dingy,  with  a  large  hole  in  the  top  and 
a  portion  of  the  rim  torn  off. 

"No,"  said  Dick;  " my  grandfather  used  to  wear 
it  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  I've  kep'  it  ever  since  out 
of  respect  for  his  memory.  But  I'll  get  a  new  one 
now.    I  can  buy  one  cheap  on  Chatham  Street." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  41 

"Is  that  near  here?" 

"Only  five  minutes'  walk. 

"  Then  we  can  get  one  on  the  way." 

When  Dick  was  dressed  in  his  new  attire,  with 
his  face  and  hands  clean,  and  his  hair  brushed,  it 
was  difficult  to  imagine  that  he  was  the  same  boy. 

He  now  looked  quite  handsome,  and  might  readily 
have  been  taken  for  a  young  gentleman,  except  that 
his  hands  were  red  and  grimy. 

"  Look  at  yourself,"  said  Frank,  leading  him  be- 
fore the  mirror. 

"  By  gracious ! "  said  Dick,  starting  back  in  aston- 
ishment, "that  isn't  me,  is  it?" 

"Don't  you  know  yourself  ?"  asked  Frank,  smil 
ing. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  Cinderella,"  said  Dick,  "  when 
she  was  changed  into  a  fairy  princess.  I  see  it  one 
night  at  Barnum's.  "What'll  Johnny  Nolan  say  when 
he  sees  me  ?  He  won't  dare  to  speak  to  such  a  young 
swell  as  I  be  now.  Aint  it  rich  ?  "  and  Dick  burst 
into  a  loud  laugh.  His  fancy  was  tickled  by  the 
anticipation    of  his    friend's    surprise.      Then    the 


42  RAGGED   DICK;    OH, 

thought  of  the  valuable  gifts  he  had  received  oo 
curred   to   him,  and  he   looked  gratefully  at  Frank. 

"  You're  a  brick,"  he  said. 

"A  what?" 

"  A  brick !  You're  a  jolly  good  fellow  to  give  me 
such  a  present." 

"  You're  quite  welcome,  Dick,"  said  Frank,  kindly. 
"  I'm  better  off  than  you  are,  and  I  can  spare  the 
clothes  just  as  well  as  not.  You  must  have  a  new 
hat  though.  But  that  we  can  get  when  we  go  out. 
The  old  clothes  you  can  make  into  a  bundle." 

"Wait  a  minute  till  I  get  my  handkercher,"  and 
Dick  pulled  from  the  pocket  of  the  pants  a  dirty  rag, 
which  might  have  been  white  once,  though  it  did 
not  look  like  it,  and  had  apparently  once  formed  a 
part  of  a  sheet  or  shirt. 

"  You  mustn't  carry  that,"  said  Frank. 

"  But  I've  got  a  cold,"  said  Dick. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  you  to  go  without  a  handker- 
chief.    I'll  give  you  one." 

Frank  opened  his  trunk  and  pulled  out  two,  which 
he  gave  to  Dick. 

"I  wonder  if  I    aint  dreamin',"  said  Dick,  once 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  43 

more  surveying  himself  doubtfully  in  the  glass.  I'm 
afraid  I'm  dreamin',  and  shall  wake  up  in  a  barrel, 
as  I  did  night  afore  last." 

"  Shall  I  pinch  you  so  you  can  wake  here?"  asked 
Frank,  playfully. 

"Yes,"  said  Dick,  seriously,  "I  wish  you  would." 
He  pulled  up  the  sleeve  of  his  jacket,  and  Frank 
pinched  him  pretty  hard,  so  that  Dick  winced. 

"Yes,  I   guess  I'm  awake,"  said  Dick;  "you've 
got  a  pair  of  nippers,  you  have." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  with  my  brush  and  black- 
ing?" he  asked. 

"  You  can  leave  them   here  till  we  come  back," 
said  Frank.     "  They  will  be  safe." 

"  Hold  on  a  minute,"  said  Dick,  surveying  Frank's 
boots  with  a  professional  eye,  "  you  aint  got  a 
good  shine  on  them  boots.  I'll  make  'em  shine  so 
you  can  see  your  face  in  'em." 
And  he  was  as  good  as  his  word. 
"  Thank  you,"  said  Frank ;  "  now  you  had  better 
brush  your  own  shoes." 

This  had  not  occurred  to  Dick,  for  in  general  the 
professional   boot-black  considers  his   blacking   too 


44  BAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

valuable  to  expend  on  his  own  shoes  or  boots,  if  ho 
is  fortunate  enough  to  possess  a  pah\ 

The  two  boys  now  went  downstairs  together. 
They  met  the  same  servant  who  had  spoken  to  Dick 
a  few  minutes  before,  but  there  was  no  recognition. 

*'  He  don't  know  me,"  said  Dick.  "  He  thinks  I'm 
a  young  swell  like  you." 

"What's  a  swell?" 

"  Oh,  a  feller  that  wears  nobby  clothes  like  you." 

"  And  you,  too,  Dick." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  "  who'd  ever  have  thought  as  I 
should  have  turned  into  a  swell  ?  " 

They  had  now^got  out  on  Broadway,  and  were 
slowly  walking  along  the  west  side  by  the  Park, 
when  who  should  Dick  see  in  front  of  him,  but 
Johnny  Nolan  ? 

Instantly  Dick  was  seized  with  a  fancy  for  wit- 
nessing Johnny's  amazement  at  his  change  in  appear- 
ance. He  stole  up  behind  him,  and  struck  him  on 
the  back. 

"Hallo,  Johnny,  how  many  shines  have  you 
had?" 

Johnny  turned  round  expecting  to  see  Dick,  whose 


STREET-  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  45 

voice  he  recognized,  but  his  astonished  eyes  rested 
on  a  nicely  dressed  boy  (the  hat  alone  excepted) 
who  looked  indeed  like  Dick,  but  so  transformed  in 
dress  that  it  was  difficult  to  be  sure  of  his  identity. 

"What  luck,  Johnny?"  repeated  Dick. 

Johnny  surveyed  him  from  head  to  foot  in  great 
bewilderment. 

"Who  be  you?"  he  said. 

"  Well,  that's  a  good  one,"  laughed  Dick ;  "  so 
you  don't  know  Dick  ?  " 

"Where'd  you  get  all  them  clothes?"  asked 
Johnny.     "  Have  you  been  stealin'  ?  " 

"  Say  that  again,  and  I'll  lick  you.  No,  I've  lent 
my  clothes  to  a  young  feller  as  was  goin'  to  a  party, 
and  didn't  have  none  fit  to  wear,  and  so  I  put  on 
my  second-best  for  a  change." 

Without  deigning  any  further  explanation,  Dick 
went  off,  followed  by  the  astonished  gaze  of  Johnny 
Nolan,  who  could  not  quite  make  up  his  mind 
whether  the  neat-looking  boy  he  had  been  talking 
with  was  really  Ragged  Dick  or  not. 

In  order  to  reach  Chatham  Street  it  was  necessary 
to  cross  Broadway.    This  was  easier  proposed  than 


46  BAGGED  DICK;    OB, 

done.  There  is  always  such  a  throng  of  omnibuses 
drays,  carriages,  and  vehicles  of  all  kinds  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Astor  House,  that  the  crossing 
is  formidable  to  one  who  is  not  used  to  it.  Dick 
made  nothing  of  it,  dodging  in  and  out  among  the 
horses  and  wagons  with  perfect  self-possession. 
Reaching  the  opposite  sidewalk,  he  looked  back,  and 
found  that  Frank  had  retreated  in  dismay,  and  that 
the  width  of  the  street  was  between  them. 

"  Come  across  ! "  called  out  Dick. 

"I  don't  see  any  chance,"  said  Frank,  looking 
anxiously  at  the  prospect  before  him.  "I'm  afraid 
of  being  run  over." 

"  If  you  are,  you  can  sue  'em  for  damages,"  said 
Dick. 

Finally  Frank  got  safely  over  after  several  narrow 
escapes,  as  he  considered  them. 

"  Is  it  always  so  crowded? "  he  asked. 

"  A  good  deal  worse  sometimes,"  said  Dick.  "  I 
knowed  a  young  man  once  who  waited  sis  hours  for  a 
chance  to  cross,  and  at  last  got  run  over  by  an 
omnibus,  leaving  a  widder  and  a  large  family  of 
orphan  children.      His  widder,   a   beautiful  young 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  47 

woman,  was  obliged  to  start  a  peanut  and  apple 
stand.    There  she  is  now." 

"Where?" 

Dick  pointed  to  a  hideous  old  woman,  of  large 
proportions,  wearing  a  bonnet  of  immense  size,  who 
presided  over  an  apple-stand  close  by. 

Frank  laughed. 

"  If  that  is  the  case,"  he  said,  "  I  think  I  will 
patronize  her."  # 

"  Leave  it  to  me,"  said  Dick,  winking. 

He  advanced  gravely  to  the  apple-stand,  and  said, 
'  Old  lady,  have  you  paid  your  taxes  ?  " 

The  astonished  woman  opened  her  eyes. 

"I'm  a  gov'ment  officer,"  said  Dick,  "  sent  by  the 
mayor  to  collect  your  taxes.  I'll  take  it  in  apples 
just  to  oblige.  That  big  red  one  will  about  pay 
what  you're  owin'  to  the  gov'ment." 

"  I  don't  know  nothing  about  no  taxes,"  said  the 
old  woman,  in  bewilderment. 

"  Then,"  said  Dick,  "  I'll  let  you  off  this  time. 
Give  us  two  of  your  .best  apples,  and  my  friend  here, 
the  President  of  the  Common  Council,  will  pay 
you." 


48  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

Frank  smiling,  paid  three  cents  apiece  for  the 
apples,  and  they  sauntered  on,  Dick  remarking,  "  If 
these  apples  aint  good,  old  lady,  we'll  return  'em, 
and  get  our  money  back."  This  would  have  been 
rather  difficult  in  his  case,  as  the  apple  was  already 
half  consumed. 

Chatham  Street,  where  they  wished  to  go,  being  on 
the  East  side,  the  two  boys  crossed  the  Park.  This 
is  an  enclosure  of  about  ten  acres,  which  years  ago 
was  covered  with  a  green  sward,  but  is  now  a  great 
thoroughfare  for  pedestrians  and  contains  several 
important  public  buildings.  Dick  pointed  out  the 
City  Hall,  the  Hall  of  Records,  and  the  Eotunda. 
The  former  is  a  white  building  of  large  size,  and 
surmoumted  by  a  cupola. 

"That's  where  the  mayor's  office  is,"  said  Dick. 
"  Him  and  me  are  very  good  friends.  I  once  blacked 
his  boots  by  partic'lar  appointment.  That's  the  way 
I  pay  my  city  taxes." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  49 


CHAPTER    V. 

CHATHAM    STREET    AND    BROADWAY. 

They  were  soon  in  Chatham  Street,  walking  be- 
tween rows  of  ready-made  clothing  shops,  many  of 
which  had  half  their  stock  in  trade  exposed  on  the 
sidewalk.  The  proprietors  of  these  establishments 
stood  at  the  doors,  watching  attentively  the  passers- 
by,  extending  urgent  invitations  to  any  who  even 
glanced  at  the  goods,  to  enter. 

"  Walk  in,  young  gentlemen,"  said  a  stout  man,  at 
the  entrance  of  one  shop. 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  replied  Dick,  "  as  the  fly  said 
to  the  spider." 

"  We're  selling  off  at  less  than  cost." 

"  Of  course  you  be.  That's  where  you  makes  your 
money,"  said  Dick.  "There  aint  nobody  of  any 
enterprise  that  pretends  to  make  any  profit  on  his 
goods." 

The  Chatham  Street  trader  looked  after  our  hero 
4 


50 


RAiiUED   DICK;    UK, 


as  if  he  didn't  quite  comprehend  him ;  but  Dick, 
without  waiting  for  a  reply,  passed  on  with  his  com- 
panion. 

In  some  of  the  shops  auctions  seemed  to  be  going 
on. 

"  I  am  only  offered  two  dollars,  gentlemen,  for 
this  elegant  pair  of  doeskin  pants,  made  of  the  very 
best  of  cloth.  It's  a  frightful  sacrifice.  Who'll  give 
an  eighth?  Thank  you,  sir.  Only  seventeen  shillings  ! 
Why  the  cloth  cost  more  by  the  yard  ! " 

This  speaker  was  standing  on  a  little  platform 
haranguing  to  three  men,  holding  in  his  hand  mean- 
while a  pair  of  pants  very  loose  in  the  legs,  a, id  pre- 
senting a  cheap  Bowery  look. 

Frank  and  Dick  paused  before  the  shop  door,  and 
finally  saw  them  knocked  down  to  rather  a  verdant- 
looking  individual  at  three  dollars. 

"  Clothes  seem  to  be  pretty  cheap  here%"  said* 
Frank. 

"Yes,  but  Baxter  Street  is  the  cheapest  plAce." 

"Is  it?" 

"  Yes.  Johnny  Nolan  got  a  whole  rig-owl  there 
last  week,  for  a  dollar,  —  coat,  cap,  vest,  pants,  and 


STBEET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  51 

shoes.    They  was  very  good  measure,  too,  like  my 
best  clothes  that  I  took  off  to  oblige  you." 

"I  shall  know  where  to  come  for  clothes  next 
time,"  said  Frank,  laughing.  "  I  had  no  idea  the 
city  was  so  much  cheaper  than  the  country.  I  sup- 
pose the  Baxter  Street  tailors  are  fashionable  ?  " 

"  In  course  they  are.  Me  and  Horace  Greeley 
always  go  there  for  clothes.  "When  Horace  gets  a 
new -suit,  I  always  have  one  made  just  like  it ;  but  I 
can't  go  the  white  hat.  It  aint  becomin'  to  my  style 
of  beauty." 

A  little  farther  on  a  man  was  standing  out  on  the 
sidewalk,  distributing  small  printed  handbills.  One 
was  handed  to  Frank,  which  he  read  as  follows, 

"Grand  Closing-Out  Sale!  —  A  variety  of  Beau- 
tiful and  Costly  Articles  for  Sale,  at  a  Dollar  apiece. 
Unparalleled  Inducements  !     Walk  in,  Gentlemen !  " 

"  Whereabouts  is  this  sale?"  asked  Frank. 

"  In  here,  young  gentlemen,"  said '  a  black-whis- 
kered individual,  who  appeared  suddenly  on  the 
scene.     "  Walk  in." 

"Shall  we  go  in,  Dick?" 

"  It's  a  swindlin'  shop,"  said  Dick,  in  a  low  voice. 


52  BAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

"  I've  been  there.     That  man's  a  reg'lar  cheat.     He's   ' 
seen  me  before,  but  he  don't  know  me  coz  of  my 
clothes." 

"  Step  in  and  see  the  articles,"  said  the  man,  per- 
suasively.    "  You  needn't  buy,  you  know." 

"  Are  all  the  articles  worth  more'n  a  dollar? "  asked 
Dick. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  other,  "  and  some  worth  a  great 
deal  more." 

"Such  as  what?" 

"Well,  there's  a  silver  pitcher  worth  twenty 
dollars." 

"And  you  sell  it  for  a  dollar.  That's  very  kind 
of  you,"  said  Dick,  innocently. 

"  Walk  in,  and  you'll  understand  it." 

"  No,  I  guess  not,"  said  Dick.  "  My  servants  is 
so  dishonest  that  I  wouldn't  like  to  trust  'em  with  a 
silver  pitcher.  Come  along,  Frank.  I  hope  you'll 
succeed  in  your  charitable  enterprise  of  supplyin' 
the  public  with  silver  pitchers  at  nineteen  dollars  less 
than  they  are  worth." 

"How  does  he  manage,  Dick?"  asked  Frank,  as 
they  went  on. 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW  YORK.  53 

"  All  his  articles  are  numbered,  and  he  makes  you 
pay  a  dollar,  and  then  shakes  some  dice,  and  what- 
ever the  figgers  come  to,  is  the  number  of  the  article 
you  draw.     Most  of  'em  aint  worth  sixpence." 

A  hat  and  cap  store  being  close  at  hand,  Dick  and 
Frank  went  in.  For  seventy-five  cents,  which  Frank 
insisted  on  paying,  Dick  succeeded  in  getting  quite  a 
neat-looking  cap,  which  corresponded  much  better 
with  his  appearance  than  the  one  he  had  on.  The 
last,  not  being  considered  worth  keeping,  Dick 
dropped  on  the  sidewalk,  from  which,  on  looking 
back,  he  saw  it  picked  up  by  a  brother  boot-black 
who  appeared  to  consider  it  better  than  his  own. 

They  retraced  their  steps  and  went  up  Chambers 
Street  to  Broadway.  At  the  corner  of  Broadway  and 
Chambers  Street  is  a  large  white  marble  warehouse, 
which  attracted  Frank's  attention. 

"  What  building  is  that?"  he  asked,  with  interest. 

"  That  belongs  to  my  friend  A.  T.  Stewart,"  said 
Dick.  "  It's  the  biggest  store  on  Broadway.*  If  I 
ever  retire  from  boot-blackin',  and  go  into  mercantile 

*Mr.  Stewart's  Tenth  Street  store  was  not  open  at  the  time  Dick  spoke. 


54  BAGGED  DICK;   OR, 

pursuits,  I  may  buy  him  out,  or  build  another  store 
that'll  take  the  shine  off  this  one." 

"  "Were  you  ever  in  the  store?  "  asked  Frank. 

"  No,"  said  Dick ;  "  but  I'm  intimate  with  one  of 
Stewart's  partners.'  He  is  a  cash  boy,  and  does 
nothing  but  take  money  all  day." 

"A  very  agreeable  employment,"  said  Frank, 
laughing. 

«  Yes,"  said  Dick,  "  I'd  like  to  be  in  it." 

The  boys  crossed  to  the  West  side  of  Broadway, 
and  walked  slowly  up  the  street.  To  Frank  it  was  a 
very  interesting  spectacle.  Accustomed  to  the  quiet 
of  the  countiy,  there  was  something  fascinating  in 
the  crowds  of  people  thronging  the  sidewalks,  and 
the  great  variety  of  vehicles  constantly  passing 
and  repassing  in  the  street.  Then  again  the 
shop-windows  with  their  multifarious  contents  in- 
terested and  amused  him,  and  he  was  constantly 
checking  Dick  to  look  in  at  some  well-stocked  win- 
dow. 

"  I  don't  see  how  so  many  shopkeepers  can  find 
people  enough  to  buy  of  them,"  he  said.     "  We  haven't 


STREET  LTFE  IN'  NEW   YORK.  55 

gd/t  but   two  stores  in  our  village,  and    Broadway 
seems-  to  be  full  of  them." 

"Yes,"  said  Dick;  "  and  its  pretty  much  the 
same  in  the  avenoos,  'specially  the  Third,  Sixth,  and 
Eighth  avenoos.  The  Bowery,  too,  is  a  great  place 
for  shoppin'.  There  everybody  sells  cheaper'n  any- 
body else,  and  nobody  pretends  to  make  no  profit 
on  their  goods." 

"Where's  Barnum's  Museum?"  asked  Frank. 

"  Oh,  that's  down  nearly  opposite  the  Astor 
House,"  said  Dick.  "  Didn't  you  see  a  great  build- 
ing with  lots  of  flags  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  that's  Barnum's.*  That's  where  the 
Happy  Family  live,  and  the  lions,  and  bears,  and 
curiosities  generally.  It's  a  tip-top  place.  Haven't 
you  ever  been  there  ?  It's  most  as  good  as  the  Old 
Bowery,  only  the  plays  isn't  quite  so  excitin'." 

"  I'll  go  if  I  get  time,"  said  Frank.  "  There  is  a 
boy  at  home  who  came  to  New  York  a  month  ago, 
and  went  to  Barnum's,  and  has  been  talking  about  it 
ever  since,  so  I  suppose  it   must  be  worth  seeing." 

*  Since  destroyed  by  fire,  and  rebuilt  farther  up  Broadway,  and 
again  burned  down  in  Eebruary. 


56  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

"  They've  got  a  great  play  at  the  Old  Bowery 
now,"  pursued  Dick.  "  'Tis  called  the  '  Demon  of 
the  Danube.'  The  Demon  falls  in  love  with  a  young 
woman,  and  drags  her  by  the  hair  up  to  the  top  of  a 
steep  rock  where  his  castle  stands." 

"That's  a  queer  way  of  showing  his  love,"  said 
Frank,  laughing. 

"  She  didn't  want  to  go  with  him,  you  know,  but 
was  in  love  with  another  chap.  "When  he  heard 
about  his  girl  bein'  carried  off,  he  felt  awful,  and 
swore  an  oath  not  to  rest  till  he  had  got  her  free. 
Well,  at  last  he  got  into  the  castle  by  some  under- 
ground passage,  and  he  and  the  Demon  had  a  fight. 
Oh,  it  was  bully  seein'  'em  roll  round  on  the  stage, 
cuttin'  and  slashin'  at  each  other." 

"  And  which  got  the  best  of  it?" 

"  At  first  the  Demon  seemed  to  be  ahead,  but  at 
last  the  young  Baron  got  him  down,  and  struck  a 
dagger  into  his  heart,  sayin',  '  Die,  false  and  per- 
jured villain !  The  dogs  shall  feast  upon  thy  car- 
cass ! '  and  then  the  Demon  give  an  awful  howl  and 
died.  Then  the  Baron  seized  his  body,  and  threw 
it  over  the  precipice." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  57 

"  It  seems  to  me  the  actor  who  plays  the  Demon 
ought  to  get  extra  pay,  if  he  has  to  be  treated  that 
way." 

"  That's  so,"  said  Dick ;  "  but  I  guess  he's  used 
to  it.     It  seems  to  agree  with  his  constitution." 

"What  building  is  that?"  asked  Frank,  pointing 
to  a  structure  several    rods  back    from  the  street, 

with  a  large  yard  in  front.     It  was  an  unusual  sight 

I 
for  Broadway,  all  the  other  buildings  in  that  neigh- 
borhood being  even  with  the  street. 

"  That  is  the  New  York  Hospital,"  said  Dick. 
"  They're  a  rich  institution,  and  take  care  of  sick 
people  on  very  reasonable  terms." 

"Did  you  ever  go  in  there?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick ;  "  there  was  a  friend  of  mine, 
Johnny  Mullen,  he  was  a  newsboy,  got  run  over  by 
a  omnibus  as  he  was  crossin'  Broadway  down  near 
Park  Place.  He  was  carried  to  the  Hospital,  and  me 
and  some  of  his  friends  paid  his  board  while  he  was 
there.  It  was  only  three  dollars  a  week,  which  was 
very  cheap,  considerin'  all  the  care  they  took  of 
him.  I  got  leave  to  come  and  see  him  while  he  was 
here.     Everything  looked  so  nice  and  comfortable, 


58  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

that  I  thought  a  little  of  coaxin'  a  omnibus  driver 
to  run  over  me,  so  I  might  go  there  too." 

"  Did  your  friend  have  to  have  his  leg  cut  off  ?  " 
asked  Frank,  interested. 

"  No,"  said  Dick ;  "  though  there  was  a  young 
student  there  that  was  very  anxious  to  have  it  cut 
off;  but  it  wasn't  done,  and  Johnny  is  around  the 
streets  as  well  as  ever." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  they  reached 
No.  365,  at  the  corner  of  Franklin  Street.* 

"  That's  Taylor's  Saloon,"  said  Dick.  "  When  I 
come  into  a  fortun'  I  shall  take  my  meals  there 
reg'lar." 

"  I  have  heard  of  it  very  often,"  said  Frank.  "  It 
is  said  to  be  very  elegant.  Suppose  we  go  in  and 
take  an  ice-cream.  It  will  give  us  a  chance  to  see 
it  to  better  advantage." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dick;  "I  think  that's  the 
most  agreeable  way  of  seein'  the  place  myself." 

The  boys  entered,  and  found  themselves  in  a 
spacious  and  elegant  saloon,  resplendent  with  gild- 
ing, and  adorned    on  all    sides    by  costly  mirrors. 

*  Now  the  office  of  the  Merchants'  Union  Express  Company. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  59 

They  sat  down  to  a  small  table  with  a  marble  top, 
and  Frank  gave  the  order. 

"  It  reminds  me  of  Aladdin's  palace,"  said  Frank, 
looking  about  him. 

"  Does  it? "  said  Dick ;  "  he  must  have  had  plenty 
of  money." 

"  He  had,  an  old  lamp,  which  he  had  onby  to  rub, 
when  the  Slave  of  the  Lamp  would  appear,  and  do 
whatever  he  wanted."     ' 

"  That  must  have  been  a  valooable  lamp.  I'd 
be  willin'  to  give  all  my  Erie  shares  for  it." 

There  was  a  tall,  gaunt  individual  at  the  next 
table,  who  apparently  heard  this  last  remark  of 
Dick's.  Turning  towards  our  hero,  he  said,  "  May 
I  inquire,  young  man,  whether  you  are  largely  inter- 
ested in  this  Erie  Railroad  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  got  no  property  except  what's  invested 
in  Erie,"  said  Dick,  with  a  comical  side-glance  at 
Frank. 

"Indeed!  I  suppose  the  investment  was  made 
by  your  guardian." 

No,"  said  Dick ;  "I  manage  my  property  my- 
self." 


60  RAGGED   DICK',    OR, 

"And  I  presume  your  dividends  have  not  been 
large  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,"  said  Dick ;  "  you're  about  right  there. 
They  haven't." 

"As  I  supposed.  It's  poor  stock.  Now,  my 
young  friend,  I  can  recommend  a  much  better  in- 
vestment, which  will  yield  you  a  large  annual 
income.  I  am  agent  of  the  Excelsior  Copper  Min- 
ing Company,  which  possesses  one  of  the  most  pro- 
ductive mines  in  the  world.  It's  sure  to  yield  fifty 
per  cent,  on  the  investment.  Now,  all  you  have  to 
do  is  to  sell  out  your  Erie  shares,  and  invest  in 
our  stock,  and  I'll  insure  you  a  fortune  in  three 
years.     How  many  shares  did    you  say   you  had?" 

"  I  didn't  say,  that  I  remember,"  said  Dick. 
"  Your  offer  is  very  kind  and  obligin',  and  as  socn 
as  I  get  time  I'll  see  about  it." 

"I  hope  you  will,"  said  the  stranger.  "Permit 
me  to  give  you  my  card.  '  Samuel  Snap,  No.  — 
"Wall  Street.'  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  receive  a 
call  from  you,  and  exhibit  the  maps  of  our  mine. 
I  should  be  glad  to  have  you  mention  the  matter 
also  to  your  friends.     I  am  confident  you  could  do 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  61 

/ 

no  greater   service  tharf  to  induce  them  to  embark 
in  our  enterprise." 

"  Very  good,"  said  Dick. 

Here  the  stranger  left  the  table,  and  walked  up 
to  the  desk  to  settle  his  bill. 

"  You  see  what  it  is  to  be  a  man  of  fortun', 
Frank,"  said  Dick,  "and  wear  good  clothes.  I 
wonder  what  that  chap'll  say  when  he  sees  me 
blackin'  boots  to-morrow  in  the  street?" 

"  Perhaps  you  earn  your  money  more  honorably 
than  he  does,  after  all,"  said  Frank.  "  Some  of 
these  mining  companies  are  nothing  but  swindles, 
got  up  to  cheat  people  out  of  their  money." 

"  He's  welcome  to  all  he  gets  out  of  me,"  said 
Dick. 


62 


UAGGiSD   DICK;    OR, 


CHAPTER    VI. 

UP  BROADWAY  TO  MADISON  SQUARE. 

As  the  boys  pursued  their  way  up  Broadway,  Dick 
pointed  out  the  prominent  hotels  and  places  of 
amusement.  Frank  was  particularly  struck  with 
the  imposing  fronts  of  the  St.  Nicholas  and  Metro- 
politan Hotels,  the  former  of  white  marble,  the 
latter  of  a  subdued  brown  hue,  but  not  less  elegant 
in  its  internal  appointments.  He  was  not  surprised 
to  be  infofmed  that  each  of  these  splendid  structures 
cost  with  the  furnishing  not  far  from  a  million  dol- 
lars. 

At  Eighth  Street  Dick  turned  to  the  right,  and 
pointed  out  the  Clinton  Hall  Building  now  occupied 
by  the  Mercantile  Library,  comprising  at  that  time 
over  fifty  thousand  volumes.* 

A  little  farther  on  they  came  to  a  large  building  • 

*  Now  not  far  from  one  hundred  thousand. 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW   YORK.  fi3 

standing  by  itself  just  at  the  opening  of  Third  and 
Fourth  Avenues,  and  with  one  side  on  each. 

"What  is  that  building  ?"  asked  Frank. 

"  That's  the  Cooper  Institute,"  said  Dick  ;  "  built 
by  Mr.  Cooper,  a  particular  friend  of  mine.  Mo 
and  Peter  Cooper  used  to   go  to   school  together." 

"What  is  there  inside?"  asked  Frank. 

"There's  a  hall  for  public  meetins'  and  lecturea 
in  the  basement,  and  a  readin'  room  and  a  picture 
gallery  up  above,"  said  Dick.  . 

Directly  opposite  Cooper  Institute,  Frank  saw  a 
Very  large  building  of  brick,  covering  about  an  acre 
of  ground. 

"  Is  that  a  hotel?  "  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Dick;  "that's  the  Bible  House.  It's 
the  place  where  they  make  Bibles.  I  was  in  there 
once,  —  saw  a  big  pile  of  'em." 

"Did  you  ever  read  the  Bible?"  asked  Frank, 
who  had  some  idea  of  the  neglected  state  of  Dick's 
education. 

"  No,"  said  Dick ;  "  I've  heard  it's  a  good  book, 
but  I  never  read  one.  I  aint  much  on  readin'.  It 
makes  my  head  ache." 


64  sagged  divk;  or, 

'*  I  suppose  you  can't  read  very  fast." 
"  I  can  read  the  little  words  pretty  well,  but  the 
big  ones  is  what  stick  me." 

"KI  lived  in  the  city,  you  might  come  every 
evening  to  me,  and  I  would  teach  you." 

"Would  you  take  so  much  trouble  about  me?" 
asked  Dick,  earnestly. 

"  Certainly ;  I  should  like  to  see  you  getting  on. 
There  isn't  much  chance  of  that  if  you  don't  know 
how  to  read  and  write." 

"  You're  a  good  feller,"  said  Dick,  gratefully.  "  I 
wish  you  did  live  in  New  York.  I'd  like  to  know 
somethin'.     Whereabouts  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  About  fifty  miles  off,  in  a  town  on  the  left  bank 
of  the  Hudson.     I  wish   you'd  come  up  and  see  me 
sometime.     I  would  like  to  have  you  come  and  stop 
two  or  three  days." 
"  Honor  bright  ?  " 
"I  don't  understand-." 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  "  asked  Dick,  incredulously. 
"  Of  course  I  do.    Why  shouldn't  I  ?  " 
"  What  would  your  folks  say  if  they  knowed  you 
asked  a  boot-black  to  visit  you  ?  " 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  65 

*'  You  are  none  the  worse  for  being  a  boot-black, 
Dick." 

"  I  aint  used  to  genteel  society,"  said  Dick.  "  I 
shouldn't  know  how  to  behave." 

"  Then  I  could  show  you.  You  won't  be  a  boot- 
black all  your  life,  you  know." 

"  No,"  said  Dick ;  "  I'm  goin'  to  knock  off  when  I 
get  to  be  ninety." 

"  Before  that,  I  hope,"  said  Frank,  smiling. 

"I  really  wish  I  could  get  somethin'  else  to  do," 
said  Dick,  soberly.  "  I'd  like  to  be  a  office  boy, 
and  learn  business,   and  grow  up  'spectable." 

"  Why  don't  you  try,  and  see  if  you  can't  get  a 
place,  Dick?" 

"  Who'd  take  Ragged  Dick?  " 

"  But  you  aint  ragged  now,  Dick." 

"  No,"  said  Dick ;  "  I  look  a  little  better  than  I 

did   in  my   Washington  coat    and  Louis    Napoleon 

pants.     But  if  I  got  in  a  office,  they  wouldn't  give 

me  more'n  three  dollars  a  week,  and  I  couldn't  live 

spectable  on  that." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not."   said  Frank,  thoughtfully. 
5 


66  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

'*  But  you  would  get  more  at  the  end  of  the  first 
year." 

"Yes,"  said  Dick;  "but  by  that  time  I'd  be 
nothin'  but  skin  and  bones." 

Frank  laughed.  "That  reminds  me,"  he  said, 
"of  the  story  of  an  Irishman,  who,  out  of  economy, 
thought  he  would  teach  his  horse  to  feed  on  shap- 
ings. So  he  provided  the  horse  with  a  pair  of  green 
spectacles  which  made  the  shavings  look  eatable. 
But  unfortunately,  just  as  the  horse  got  learned,  he 
up  and  died." 

"  The  hoss  must  have  been  a  fine  specimen  of 
architectur'  by  the  time  he  got  through,"  remarked 
Dick. 

"  Whereabouts  are  we  now  ? "  asked  Frank,  as 
they  emerged  from  Fourth  Avenue  into  Union 
Square. 

"  That  is  Union  Park,"  said  Dick,  pointing  to  a 
beautiful  enclosure,  in  the  centre  of  which  was  a 
pond,  with  a  fountain  playing. 

"Is  that  the  statue  of  General  "Washington?" 
asked  Frank,  pointing  to  a  bronze  equestrian  statue, 
on  a  granite  pedestal. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  67 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick ;  "  he's  growed  some  since  he 
was  President.  If  he'd  been  as  tall  as  that  when  he 
fit  in  the  Revolution,  he'd  have  walloped  the  Brit- 
ishers some,  I  reckon." 

Frank  looked  up  at  the  statue,  which  is  fourteen 
and  a  half  feet  high,  and  acknowledged  the  justice 
of  Dick's  remark. 

"  How  about  the  coat,  Dick?"  he  asked.  "  Would 
it  fit  you?" 

"  Well,  it  might  be  rather  loose,"  said  Dick,  "  I 
aint  much  more'n  ten  feet  high  with  my  boots   off." 
"No,  I  should   think  not,"  said  Frank,  smiling. 
"  You're  a  queer  boy,  Dick." 

"  Well,  I've  been  brought  up  queer.  Some  boys 
is  born  with  a  silver  spoon  in  their  mouth.  Victoria's 
boys  is  born  with  a  gold  spoon,  set  with  di'monds ; 
but  gold  and  silver  was  scarce  when  I  was  born, 
and  mine  was   pewter." 

"  Perhaps  the  gold  and  silver  will  come  by  and 
by,  Dick.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  Dick  Whitting- 
ton?' 

"Never  did.     Was  he  a  Ragged  Dick?" 

H I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he  was.     At  any  rate  he 


t>8  BAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

was  very  poor  when  he  was  a  boy,  but  he  didn't  stay 
so.  Before  he  died,  he  became  Lord  Mayor  of  Lon- 
don." 

"  Did  he?"  asked  Dick,  looking  interested.    "  How 
did  he  do  it?" 

"Why,  you  see,  a  rich  merchant  took  pity  on 
him,  and  gave  him  a  home  in  his  own  house,  where 
he  used  to  stay  with  the  servants,  being  employed 
in  little  errands.  One  day  the  merchant  no- 
ticed Dick  picking  up  pins  and  needles  that  had 
been  dropped,  and  asked  him  why  he  did  it.  Dick 
told  him  he  was  going  to  sell  them  when  he  got 
enough.  The  merchant  was  pleased  with  his  sav- 
ing disposition,  and  when  soon  after,  he  was  going 
to  send  a  vessel  to  foreign  parts,  he  told  Dick  he 
might  send  anything  he  pleased  in  it,  and  it  should 
be  sold  to  his  advantage.  Now  Dick  had  nothing 
in  the  world  but  a  kitten  which  had  been  given  him 
a  short  time  before." 

"  How  much  taxes  did  he  have  to  pay  on  it?  "  asked 
Dick. 

"  Not  very  high,  probably.  But  having  only  the 
kitten,  he  concluded  to  send  it  along.     After  sailing: 


SZ/tEET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  69 

a  good  many  months,  during  which  the  kitten  grew 
up  to  be  a  strong  cat,  the  ship  touched  at  an  island 
never  before  known,  which  happened  to  be  infested 
with  rats  and  mice  to  such  an  extent  that  they 
worried  everybody's  life  out,  and  even  ransacked  the 
king's  palace.  To  make  a  long  story  short,  the 
captain,  seeing  how  matters  stood,  brought  Dick's 
cat  ashore,  and  she  soon  made  the  rats  and  mice 
scatter.  The  king  was  highly  delighted  when  he  saw 
what  havoc  she  made  among  the  rats  and  mice,  and 
resolved  to  have  her  at  any  price.  So  he  offered  a 
great  quantity  of  gold  for  he»,  which,  of  course,  the 
captain  was  glad  to  accept.  It  was  faithfully  carried 
back  to  Dick,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  his  fortune. 
He  prospered  as  he  grew  up,  and  in  time  becamt  a 
very  rich  merchant,  respected  by  all,  and  before  he 
died  was  elected  Lord  Mayor  of  London." 

"  That's  a  pretty  good  story,"  said  Dick ;  "  but  I 
don't  believe  all  the  cats  in  New  York  will  ever  make 
me  mayor." 

"  No,  probably  not,  but  you  may  rise  in  some  other 
way.    A  good  many  distinguished  men  have  once 


70  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

been  poor  boys.  There's  hope  for  you,  Dick,  if  you'll 
try." 

"  Nobody  ever  talked  to  me  so  before,"  said  Dick. 
"  They  just  called  me  Ragged  Dick,  and  told  me  I'd 
grow  up  to  be  a  vagabone  (boys  who  are  better 
educated  need  not  be  surprised  at  Dick's  blunders) 
and  come  to  the  gallows." 

"  Telling  you  so  won't  make  it  turn  out  so,  Dick. 
If  you'll  try  to  be  somebody,  and  grow  up  into  a 
respectable  member  of  society,  you  will.  You  may 
not  become  rich,  —  it  isn't  everybody  that  becomes 
rich,  you  know,  —  but»you  can  obtain  a  good  position, 
and  be  respected." 

"  I'll  try,"  said  Dick,  earnestly.  "  I  needn't  have 
been  Ragged  Dick  so  long  if  I  hadn't  spent  my  money 
in  goin'  to  the  theatre,  and  treatin'  boys  to  oyster- 
stews,  and  bettin'  money  on  cards,  and  such  like." 

"  Have  you  lost  money  that  way  ?  " 

"  Lots  of  it.  One  time  I  saved  up  five  dollars  to 
buy  me  a  new  rig-out,  cos  my  best  suit  was  all  in 
rags,  when  Limpy  Jim  wanted  me  to  play  a  game 
with  him." 

"Limpy  Jim?"  said  Frank,  interrogatively. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  71 

"  Yes,  he's  lame ;  that's  what  makes  us  call  him 
Limpy  Jim." 

"  I  suppose  ycu  lost?  " 

"  Yes,  I  lost  every  penny,  and  had  to  sleep  out, 
cos  I  hadn't  a  cent  to  pay  for  lodgin'.  'Twas  a 
awful  cold  night,  and  I  got  most  froze." 

"  Wouldn't  Jim  let  you  have  any  of  the  money  he 

had  won  to  pay  for  a  lodging?" 

t 
"  No ;  I  axed  him  for  five  cents,  but  he  wouldn't 

let  me  have  it." 

"Can  you  get  lodging  for  five  cents?"  asked 
Frank,  in  surprise. 

"Yes,"  said  Dick,  "but  not  at  the  Fifth  Avenue 
Hotel.    That's  it  right  out  there." 


72  ragged  dick;  oh. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


THE    POCKET-BOOK. 


They  had  reached  the  junction  of  Broadway  and 
of  Fifth  Avenue.  Before  them  was  a  beautiful  park 
of  ten  acres.  On  the  left-hand  side  was  a  large 
marble  building,  presenting  a  fine  appearance  with 
its  extensive  white  front.  This  was  the  building  at 
which  Dick  pointed. 

•  "Is  that  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel?"  asked  Frank. 
"  I've  heard  of  it  often.  My  Uncle  William  always 
stops  there  when  he  comes  to  New  York." 

"I  once  slept  on  the  outside  of  it,"  said  Dick. 
"  They  was  very  reasonable  in  their  charges,  and 
told  me  I  might  come  again." 

"  Perhaps  sometime  you'll  be  able  to  sleep  inside," 
said  Frank. 

"I  guess  that'll  be  when  Queen  Victoria  goes  to 
the  Five  Points  to  live." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  73 

"  It  looks  like  a  palace,"  said  Frank.  "  The  queen 
needn't  be  ashamed  to  live  in  such  a  beautiful  build- 
ing as  that." 

Though  Frank  did  not  know  it,  one  of  the  queen's 
palaces  is  far  from  being  as  fine  a  looking  building  as 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel.  St.  James'  Palace  is  a  very 
ugly-looking  brick  structure,  and  appears  much  more 
like  a  factory  than  like  the  home  of  royalty.  There 
are  few  hotels  in  the  world  as  fine-looking  as  this 
democratic  institution. 

At  that  moment  a  gentleman  passed  them  on  the 
sidewalk,  who  looked  back  at  Dick,  as  if  his  face 
seemed  familiar. 

"  I  know  that  man,"  said  Dick,  after  he  had  passed. 
"  He's  one  of  my  customers." 

"  What  is  his  name  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  He  looked  back  as  if  he  thought  he  knew  you." 

"  He  would  have  knowed  me  at  once  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  my  new  clothes,"  said  Dick.  "  I  don't  look 
much  like  Ragged  Dick  now." 

"  I  suppose  your  face  looked  familiar." 

"  All  but  the  dirt,"  said  Dick,  laughing.   "  I  don't 


74  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

always  have  the  chance  of  washing  my  face  and  liana* 
in  the  Astor  House." 

"  You  told  me,"  said  Frank,  "  that  there  was  a 
place  where  you  could  get  lodging  for  five  cents. 
Where's  that?" 

"  It's  the  News-boys'  Lodgin'  House,  on  Fulton 
Street,"  said  Dick,  "  up  over  the  '  Sun '  office.  It's  a 
good  place.  I  don't  know  what  us  boys  would  do 
without  it.  They  give  you  supper  for  six  cents,  and 
a  bed  for  five  cents  more." 

"  I  suppose  some  boys  don't  even  have  the  five 
cents  to  pay,  —  do  they  ?  " 

"  They'll  trust  the  boys,"  said  Dick.  "  But  I  don't 
like  to  get  trusted.  I'd  be  ashamed  to  get  trusted 
for  five  cents,  or  ten  either.  One  night  I  was  comhf 
down  Chatham  Street,  with  fifty  cents  in  my  pocket 
I  was  goin'  to  get  a  good  oyster-stew,  and  then  go  tt 
the  lodgin'  house  ;  but  somehow  it  slipped  through  u 
hole  in  my  trowses-pocket,  and  I  hadn't  a  cent  left. 
If  it  had  been  summer  I  shouldn't  have  cared,  but  it's 
rather  tough  stayin'  out  winter  nights." 

Frank,  who  had  always  possessed  a  good  home  of 
his  own,  found  it  hard  to  realize  that  the  boy  who 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  75 

was  walking  at  his  side  had  actually  walked  the 
streets  in  the  cold  without  a  home,  or  money  to  pro- 
cure the  common  comfort  of  a  bed. 

"What  did  you  do?"  he  asked,  his  voice  full  of 
sj^mpathy. 

"  I  went  to  the  '  Times '  office.  I  knowed  one  of  the 
pressmen,  and  he  let  me  set  down  in  a  corner,  where 
I  was  warm,  and  I  soon  got  fast  asleep." 

"  Why  don't  you  get  a  room  somewhere,  and  so 
always  have  a  home  to  go  to  ?  " 

"  I  dunno,"  said  Dick.  "  I  never  thought  of  it. 
P'rhaps  I  may  hire  a  furnished  house  on  Madison 
Square." 

"  That's  where  Flora  McFllmsey  lived." 

"  I  don't  know  her,"  said  Dick,  who  had  never 
read  the  popular  poem  of  which  she  is  the  heroine. 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  they  had 
turned  into  Twenty-fifth  Street,  and  had  by  this 
time  reached  Third  Avenue. 

Just  before  entering  it,  their  attention  was  drawn 
to  the  rather  singular  conduct  of  an  individual  in 
front,  of  them.     Stopping  suddenly,  he  appeared  to 


t 
76  sagged  dick;  OS, 

pick  up  something  from  the'  sidewalk,  and  then 
looked  about  him  in  rather  a  confused  way. 

"  I  know  his  game,"  whispered  Dick.  "  Come 
along  and  you'll  see  what  it  is." 

He  hurried  Frank  forward  until  they  overtook  the 
man,  who  had  come  to  a  stand-still. 

"Have  you  found  anything?"  asked  Dick. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  man,  "  I've  found  this." 

He  exibited  a  wallet  which  seemed  stuffed  with 
bills,  to  judge  from  its  plethoric  appearance. 

"Whew!"  exclaimed  Dick;  "you're  in  luck." 

"  I  suppose  somebody  has  lost  it,"  said  the  man, 
"  and   will  offer  a  handsome  reward." 

"  Which  you'll  get." 

"Unfortunately  I  am  obliged  to  take  the  next 
train  to  Boston.  That's  where  I  live.  I  haven't 
time  to  hunt  up  the  owner." 

"  Then  I  suppose  you'll  take  the  pocket-book  with 
you,"  said  Dick,  with  assumed  simplicity. 

"  I  should  like  to  leave  it  with  some  honest  fellow 
who  would  see  it  returned  to  the  owner,"  said  the 
man,  glancing  at  the  boys. 

"  I'm  honest,"  said  Dick. 


STREET  LIFE  IJV  NEW   YORK.  77 

"I've  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  the  other.  "Well, 
young  man,  "  I'll  make  you  an  offer.  You  take  the 
pocket-book  —  " 

"  All  right.      Hand  it  over,  then." 

"  Wait  a  minute.  There  must  be  a  large  sum 
inside.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  there  might  be  a 
thousand  dollars.  The  owner  will  probably  give 
you  a  hundred  dollars  reward." 

"Why  don't  you  stay  and  get  it?"  asked  Frank. 

"I  would,  only  there  is  sickness  in  my  family, 
and  I  must  get  home  as  soon  as  possible.  Just 
give  me  twenty  dollars,  and  I'll  hand  you  the  pocket- 
book,  and  let  you  make  whatever  you  can  out  of  it. 
Come,  that's  a  good  offer.     What  do  you  say  ?  " 

Dick  was  well  dressed,  so  that  the  other  did  not 
regard  it  as  at  all  improbable  that  he  might  possess 
that  sum.  He  was  prepared,  however,  to  let  him 
have  it  for  less,  if  necessary. 

"  Twenty  dollars  is  a  good  deal  of  money,"  said 
Dick,  appearing  to  hesitate. 

"  You'll  get  it  back,  and  a  good  deal  more,"  said 
the  stranger,  persuasively; 


78  bagged  dick;  on, 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  shall.  "What  would  you  do, 
Frank?" 

"I  don't  know  but  I  would,"  said  Frank,  "if 
you've  got  the  money."  He  was  not  a  little  sur- 
prised to  think  that  Dick  had  so  much  by  him. 

"  I  don't  know  but  I  will,"  said  Dick,  after  some 
irresolution.     "  I  guess  I  won't  lose  much." 

"You  can't  lose  anything,"  said  the  stranger 
briskly.  "  Only  be  quick,  for  I  must  be  on  my  way 
to  the  cars.     I  am   afraid  I  shall  miss   them  now." 

Dick  pulled  out  a  bill  from  his  pocket,  and  handed 
it  to  the  stranger,  receiving  the  pocket-book  in  re- 
turn. At  that  moment  a  policeman  turned  the 
corner,  and  the  stranger,  huriedly  thrusting  the  bill 
into  his  pocket,  without  looking  at  it,  made  off  with 
rapid  steps. 

"  What  is  there  in  the  pocket-book,  Dick?  "  asked 
Frank  in  some  excitement.  "  I  hope  there's  enough 
to  pay  you  for  the  money  you  gave  him." 

Dick  laughed. 

"I'll  risk  that,"  said  he. 

"But  you  gave  him  twenty  dollars.  That's  a 
goo^  deal  of  money." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  79 

"  If  I  had  given  him  as  much  as  that,  I  should 
deserve  to  be  cheated  out  of  it." 

"But  you  did,  —  didn't  you?" 

"  He  thought  so." 

"What  was  it,  then?". 

"  It  was  nothing  but  a  dry-goods  circular  got  up 
to  imitate  a  bank-bill." 

Frank  looked  sober. 

"You  ought  not  to  have  cheated  him,  Dick,"  he 
said,  reproachfully. 

"  Didn't  he  want  to  cheat  me?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  What  do  you  s'pose  there  is  in  that  pocket- 
book  ?  "  asked  Dick,  holding  it  up. 

Frank  surveyed  its  ample  proportions,  and  an- 
swered sincerely  enough,  "  Money,  and  a  good  deal 
of  it." 

"  There  aint  stamps  enough  in  it  to  buy  a  oyster- 
stew,"  said  Dick.  "  If  you  don't  believe  it,  just 
look  while  I  open  it." 

So  saying  he  opened  the  pocket-book,  and  showed 
Frank  that  it  was  stuffed  out  with  pieces  of  blank 
paper,   carefully    folded  up   in  the  shape   of  bills. 


80  BAGGED  DICK;    OB, 

Frank,  who  was  unused  to  city  life,  and  had  never 
heard  anything  of  the  "drop-game"  looked  amazed 
at  this  unexpected  development. 

"  I  knowed  how  it  was  all  the  time,"  said  Dick. 
"  I  guess  I  got  the  best  of  him  there.  This  wallet's 
worth  somethin'.  I  shall  use  it  to  keep  my  stiffkit's 
of  Erie  stock  in,  and  all  my  other  papers  what 
aint  of  no  use  to  anybody  but  the  owner." 

"  That's  the  kind  of  papers  it's  got  in  it  now," 
said  Frank,  smiling.  / 

"  That's  so  ! "  said  Dick. 

"By  hokey!"  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  "  if  there 
aint  the  old  chap  comin'  back  ag'in.  He  looks  as 
if  he'd  heard  bad  news  from  his  sick  family." 

By  this  time  the  pocket-book  dropper  had  come 
up. 

Approaching  the  boys,  he  said  in  an  undertone  to 
Dick,  "  Give  me  back  that  pocket-book,  you  young 
rascal ! " 

"  Beg  your  pa/don,  mister,"  said  Dick,  "  but  was 
you  addressin'  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  was." 

"  'Cause  you  called  me  by  the  wrong  name.    I've 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  81 

knowed  some  rascals,  but  I  aint  the  honor  to  belong 
to  the  family." 

He  looked  significantly  at  the  other  as  he  spoke, 
which  didn't  improve  the  man's  temper.  Acecus- 
tomed  to  swindle  others,  he  did  not  fancy  being 
practised  upon  in  return. 

"  Give  me  back  that  pocket-book,"  he  repeated  in 
a  threatening  voice. 

"Couldn't  do  it,"  said  Dick,  coolly.  "I'm  go'n' 
to  restore  it  to  the  owner.  The  contents  is  so 
valooable  that  most  likely  the  loss  has  made  him 
sick,  and  he'll  be  likely  to  come  down  liberal  to  the 
honest  finder." 

"  You  gave  nre  a  bogus  bill,"  said  the  man. 

"  It's  what  I  use  myself,"  said  Dick. 

"You've  swindled  me." 

"  I  thought  it  was  the  other  way." 

"  None  of  your  nonsense,"  said  the  man  angrily. 
"  If  you  don't  give  up  that  pocket-book,  I'll  call  a 
policeman." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  Dick.  "They'll  know 
most  likely  whether  it's  Stewart  or  Astor  that's  lost 
the  pocket-book,  and  I  can  get  'em  to  return  it  " 

6 


82  RAGGED   DICK;    OB, 

The  "  dropper,"  whose  object  it  was  to  recover  the 
pocket-book,  in  order  to  try  the  same  game  on  a 
more  satisfactory  customer,  was  irritated  by  Dick's 
refusal,  and  above  all  by  the  coolness  he  displayed. 
He  resolved  to  make  one  more  attempt. 

"Do  you  want  to  pass  the  night  in  the  Tombs?" 
he  asked. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  very  obligin'  proposal,"  said 
Dick;  "but  it  aint  convenient  to-day.  Any  other 
time,  when  you'd  like  to  have  me  come  and  stop  with. 
you,  I'm  agreeable  ;  but  my  two  youngest  children  is 
down  with  the  measles,  and  I  expect  I'll  have  to  set 
up  all  night  to  take  care  of  'em.  Is  the  Tombs,  in 
gineral,  a  pleasant  place  of  residence  ?  " 

Dick  asked  this  question  with  an  air  of  so  much 
earnestness  that  Frank  could  scarcely  forbear  laugh- 
ing, though  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the 
dropper  was  by  no  means  so  inclined. 

"You'll  know  sometime,"  he  said,  scowling. 

" I'll  make  you  a  fait  offer,"  said  Dick.  "If  I  get 
more'n  fifty  dollars  as  a  reward  for  my  honesty,  I'll 
divide  with  you.  But  I  say,  aint  it  most  time  to  go 
back  to  your  sick  family  in  Boston?  " 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  83 

Finding  that  nothing  was  to  be  made  out  of  Dick, 
the  man  strode  away  with  a  muttered  curse. 

"You  were  too  smart  for  him,  Dick,"  said  Frank. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  "  I  aint  knocked  round  the  city 
streets  all  my  life  for  nothin'.* 


84  sagged  dick;  OS, 


CHAPTER   VIII. 
dick's  early  history. 

"Have  you  always  lived  iu  New  York,  Dick?" 
asked  Frank,  after  a  pause. 

"  Ever  since  I  can  remember." 

"I  wish  you'd  tell  me  a  little  about  yourself. 
Have  you  got  any  father  or  mother?" 

"  I  aint  got  no  mother.  She  died  when  I  wasn't 
but  three  years  old.  My  father  went  to  sea ;  but  he 
went  off  before  mother  died,  and  nothin'  was  ever 
heard  of  him.  I  expect  he  got  wrecked,  or  died  at 
sea." 

"  And  what  became  of  you  when  your  mother 
died?" 

"  The  folks  she  boarded  with  took  care  of  me,  but 
they  was  poor,  and  they  couldn't  do  much.  When  J 
was  seven  the  woman  died,  and  her  husband  went 
out  West,  and  then  I  had  to  scratch  for  myself." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  85 

"At  seven  years  old!"  exclaimed  Frank,  in 
amazement. 

"Yes,"  said  Dick,  "I  was  a  little  feller  to  take 
care  of  myself,  but,"  he  continued  with  pardonable 
pride,  "  I  did  it." 

"What  could  you  do?" 

"  Sometimes  one  thing,  and  sometimes  another," 
said  Dick.  "I  changed  my  business  accordin'  as  I 
had  to.  Sometimes  I  was  a  newsboy,  and  diffused 
intelligence  among  the  masses,  as  I  heard  somebody 
say  once  in  a  big  speech  he  made  in  the  Park.  Them 
was  the  times  when  Horace  Greeley  and  James 
Gordon  Bennett  made  money." 

"  Through  your  enterprise?"  suggested  Frank. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick ;  "  but  I  give  it  up  after  a  while." 

"What  for?" 

"  Well,  they  didn't  always  put  news  enough  in 
their  papers,  and  people  wouldn't  buy  'em  as  fast  as 
I  wanted  'em  to.  So  one  mornin'  I  was  stuck  on  a 
lot  of  Heralds,  and  I  thought  I'd  make  a  sensation. 
So  I  called  out  '  Great  News  !  Queen  Victoria 
assassinated  ! '  All  my  Heralds  went  off  like  hot 
cakes,  and  I  went  off,  too,  but  one  of  the  gentlemen 


86  ragged  dick;  on, 

what  got  sold  remembered  me,  and  said  he'd  have  me 
took  up,  and  that's  what  made  me  change  my  busi- 
ness." 

"  That  wasn't  right,  Dick,"  said  Frank. 

"  I  know  it,"  said  Dick ;  "  but  lots  of  boys  does  it." 

"  That  don't  make  it  any  better." 

"  No,"  said  Dick,  "  I  was  sort  of  ashamed  at  the 
time,  'specially  about  one  poor  old  gentleman,  —  a 
Englishman  he  was.  He  couldn't  help  cryin'  to 
think  the  queen  was  dead,  and  his  hands  shook  when 
he  handed  me  the  money  for  the  paper." 

"  What  did  you  do  next?  " 

"  I  went  into  the  match  business,"  said  Dick  ;  "  but 
it  was  small  sales  and  small  profits.  Most  of  the  peo- 
ple I  called  on  had  just  laid  in  a  stock,  and  didn't  want 
to  buy.  So  one  cold  night,  when  I  hadn't  money 
enough-.,  to  pay  for  a  lodgin',  I  burned  the  last  of  my 
matches  to  keep  me  from  freezin'.  But  it  cost  too 
much  to  get  warm  that  way,  and  I  couldn't  keep  il 

up." 

"  You've  seen  hard  times,  Dick,"  said  Frank,  com- 
passionately. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  "  I've  knowed  what  it  was  to 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  0/ 

be  hungry  and  cold,  with  nothin'  to  eat  or  to  warm 
me  ;  but  there's  one  thing  I  never  could  do,"  he  added, 
proudly. 

"What's  that?" 

"  I  never  stole,"  said  Dick.     "  It's  mean  and  I 
wouldn't  do  it." 

"  "Were  you  ever  tempted  to?" 

"  Lots  of  times.  Once  I  had  been  goin'  round  all 
day,  and  hadn't  sold  any  matches,  except  three  cents' 
worth  early  in  the  mornin'.  With  that  I  bought  an 
apple,  thinkin'  I  should  get  some  more  bimeby. 
When  evenin'  come  I  was  awful  hungry.  I  went  into 
.a  baker's  just  to  look  at  the  bread.  It  made  me  feel 
kind  o'  good  just  to  look  at  the  bread  and  cakes,  and 
I  thought  maybe  they  would  give  me  some.  I  asked 
'em  wouldn't  they  give  me  a  loaf,  and  take  the'ir  pay 
in  matches.  But  they  said  they'd  got  enough 
matches  to  last  three  months ;  so  there  wasn't  any 
chance  for  a  trade.  While  I  was  standin'  at  the 
stove  warmin'  me,  the  baker  went  into  a  back  room, 
and  I  felt  so  hungry  I  thought  I  would  take  just  one 
loaf,  and  go  off  with  it.  There  was  such  a  big  pile 
I  don't  think  he'd  have  known  it." 


88  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

"But  you  didn't  do  it?" 

"  No,  I  didn't,  and  I  was  ^lad  of  it,  for  when  the 
man  came  in  ag'in,  he  said  he  wanted  some  one  to 
carry  some  cake  to  a  lady  in  St.  Mark's  Place.  His 
boy  was  sick,  and  he  hadn't  no  one  to  send ;  so  he 
told  me  he'd  give  me  ten  cents  if  I  would  go.  My 
business  wasn't  very  pressin'  just  then,  so  I  went, 
and  when  I  come  back,  I  took  my  pay  in  bread  and 
cakes.     Didn't  they  taste  good,  though? " 

"  So  you  didn't  stay  long  in  the  match  business, 
Dick?" 

"  No,  I  couldn't  sell  enough  to  make  it  pay.  Then 
there  was  some  folks  that  wanted  me  to  sell  cheaper 
to  them  ;  so  I  couldn't  make  any  profit.  There  was  one 
old  lady  —  she  was  rich,  too,  for  she  lived  in  a  big 
brick  house — beat  me  down  so,  that  I  didn't  make 
no  profit  at  all ;  but  she  wouldn't  buy  without,  and  I 
hadn't  sold  none  that  day ;  so  I  let  her  have  them.  I 
don't  see  why  rich  folks  should  be  so  hard  upon  a 
poor  boy  that  wants  to  make  a  livin'." 

"  There's  a  good  deal  of  meanness  in  the  world, 
,I'm  afraid.  "Hint" 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  89 

"  If  everybody  was  like  you  and  your  uncle,"  said 
Dick,  "there  would  be  some  chance  for  poor  people. 
If  I  was  rich  I'd  try  to  help  'em  along." 

"Perhaps  you  will  be  rich  sometime,  Dick." 

Dick  shook  his  head. 

"  I'm  afraid  all  my  wallets  will  be  like  this,"  said 
Dick,  indicating  the  one  he  had  received  from  the 
dropper,  «  and  will  be  full  of  papers  what  aint  of  no 
use  to  anybody  except  the  owner." 

"  That  depends  very  much  on  yourself,  Dick,"  said 
Frank.     "  Stewart  wasn't  always  rich,  you  know." 

"Wasn't  he?" 

"  When  he  first  came  to  New  York  as  a  young  man 
he  was  a  teacher,  and  teachers  are  not  generally  very 
rich.  At  last  he  went  into  business,  starting  in  a 
small  way,  and  worked  his  way  up  by  degrees.  But 
there  was  one  thing  he  determined  in  the  beginning : 
that  he  would  be  strictly  honorable  in  all  his  dealings, 
and  never  overreach  any  one  for  the  sake  of  making 
money.  If  there  was  a  chance  for  him,  Dick,  there 
is  a  chance  for  you." 

"  He  knowed  enough  to  be  a  teacher,  and  Fm  awful 
ignorant,"  said  Dick. 


90  ragged  dick;  on, 

"  But  you  needn't  stay  so." 

"  How  can  I  help  it?  " 

"  Can't  you  learn  at  school?" 

"  I  can't  go  to  school  'cause  I've  got  my  livin'  to 
earn.     It  wouldn't  do  me  much  good  if  I  learned  to 
read  and  write,  and  just  as  I'd  got  learned  I  starved 
to  death." 
.  "But  are  there  no  night-schools?"     " 

"Yes." 

"  Why  don't  you  go?  I  suppose  you  don't  work  in 
the  evenings." 

"  I  never  cared  much  about  it,"  said  Dick,  "  and 
that's  the  truth.  But  since  I've  got  to  talkin'  with 
you,  I  think  more  about  it.  I  guess  I'll  begin  to 
go." 

"  I  wish  you  would,  Dick.  You'll  make  a  smart 
man  if  you  only  get  a  little  education." 

"  Do  you  think  so?"  asked  Dick,  doubtfully. 

"  I  know  so.  A  boy  who  has  earned  his  own 
living  ever  since  he  was  seven  years  old  must  have 
somethiug  in  him.  I  feel  very  much  interested  in 
you,  Dick.     You've  had  a  hard  time  of  it  so  far  in 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW   TOIIK.  9\ 

life,  but  I  think  better  times  are  in  store.  I  want 
you  to  do  well,  and  I  feel  sure  you  can  if  you  only 

try." 

"You're   a  'good  fellow,"   said  Dick,   gratefully. 

*  ♦ 

"  I'm  afraid  I'm  a  pretty  rough  customer,  but  I  aint 
as  bad  as  some.  I  mean  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and 
try  to  grow  up  'spectable." 

"  There've  been  a  great  many  boys  begin  as  low 
down  as  you,  Dick,  that  have  grown  up  respectable 
and  honored.  But  they  had  to  work  pretty  hard  for 
it." 

"  I'm  willin'  to  work  hard,"  said  Dick. 

"  And  you  must  not  only  work  hard,  but  work  in 
the  right  way." 

"  What's  the  right  way  ? " 

"  You  began  in  the  right  way  when  you  determined 
never  to  steal,  or  do  anything  mean  or  dishonorable, 
however  strongly  tempted  to  do  so.  That  will  make 
people  have  confidence  in  you  when  they  come  to 
know  you.  But,  in  order  to  succeed  well,  you  must 
manage  to  get  as  good  an  education  as  you  can. 
Until  you  do,  you  cannot  get  a  position  in  an  office 
or  counting-room,  even  to  run  errands." 


92  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

"  That's  so,"  said  Dick,  soberly.  "  I  never  thought 
how  awful  ignorant  I  was  till  now." 

"  That  can  be  remedied  with  perseverance,"  said 
Frank.     "  A  year  will  do  a  great  deal  for  you." 

"I'll  go  to  work  and  see  what  I  can  do,"  said 
Dick,  energetically. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  93 


CHAPTER    IX. 

A   SCENE   IN  A  THIRD   AVENUE   CAR. 

The  boys  had  turned  into  Third  Avenue,  a  long 
street,  which,  commencing  just  below  the  Cooper  In- 
stitute, runs  out  to  Harlem.  A  man  came  out  of  a 
side  street,  uttering  at  intervals  a  monotonous  cry 
which  sounded  like  "glass  puddin'." 

"  Glass  pudding ! "  repeated  Frank,  looking  in 
surprised  wonder  at  Dick.     "  What  does  he  mean?  " 

"  Perhaps  you'd  like  some,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  never  heard  of  it  before." 

"  Suppose  you  ask  him  what  he  charges  for  his 
puddin'.' 

Frank  looked  more  narrowly  at  the  man,  and 
soon  concluded  that  he  was  a  glazier. 

"  Oh,  I  understand,"  he  said.  "  He  means  '  glass 
put  in.' " 

Frank's  mistake  was  not  a  singular  one.  The 
monotonous  cry  of  these  men  certainly  sounds  more 


94  BAGGED  DICK;   OB, 

like  "  glass  puddin,"  than  the  words  they  intend  to 
utter. 

"  Now,"  said  Dick,  "  where  shall  we  go?  " 

"  I  should  like  to  see  Central  Park,"  said  Frank. 
"Is  it  far  off?" 

"It  is  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from  here,"  said 
Dick.  "  This  is  Twenty-ninth  Street,  and  the  Park 
begins  at  Fifty-ninth  Street." 

It  may  be  explained,  for  the  benefit  of  readers  who 
have- never  visited  New  York,  that  about  a  mile  from 
the  City  Hall  the  cross-streets  begin  to  be  numbered 
in  regular  order.  There  is  a  continuous  line  of 
houses  as  far  as  One  Hundred  and  Thirtieth  Street, 
where  may  be  found  the  terminus  of  the  Harlem 
line  of  horse-cars.  When  the  entire  island  is  laid 
out  and  settled,  probably  the  numbers  will  reach 
two  hundred  or  more.  Central  Park,  which  lies  be- 
tween Fifty-ninth  Street  on  the  south,  and  One 
Hundred  and  Tenth  Street  on  the  north,  is  true  to 
its  name,  occupying  about  the  centre  of  the  island. 
The  distance  between  two  parallel  streets  is  called 
a  block,  and  twenty  blocks  make  a  mile.  It  will 
therefore  be  seen  that  Dick  was  exactly  right,  when 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  95 

te  said  they  were  a  mile  and  a  half  from  Central 
Park. 

"  That  is  too  far  to  walk,"  said  Frank. 

"  'Twon't  cost  but  sis  cents  to  ride,"  said  Dick. 

"  You  mean  in  the  horse-cars  ?  " 

«  Yes." 

"  All  right  then.  We'll  jump  aboard  the  next 
car." 

The  Third  Avenue  and  Harlem  line  of  horse-cars 
is  better  patronized  than  any  other  in  New  York, 
though  not  much  can  be  said  for  the  cars,  which  are 
usually  dirty  and  overcrowded.  Still,  when  it  is  con- 
sidered that  only  seven  cents  are  charged  for  the 
entire  distance  to  Harlem,  about  seven  miles  from 
the  City  Hall,  the  fare  can  hardly  be  complained  of. 
But  of  course  most  of  the  profit  is  made  from  the 
way-passengers  who  only  ride  a  short  distance. 

A  car  was  at  that  moment  approaching,  but  it 
seemed  pretty  crowded. 

"  Shall  we  take  that,  or  wait  for  another?"  asked 
Frank. 

"  The  next'll  most  likely  be  as  bad,''  said  Dick, 

The  boys  accordingly  signalled  to  the  conductor 


96  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

to  stop,  and  got  on  the  front  platform.  They  were 
obliged  to  stand  up  till  the  car  reached  Fortieth 
Street,  when  so  many  of  the  passengers  had  got  off 
that  they  obtained  seats. 

Frank  sat  down  beside  a  middle-aged  woman,  or 
[ady,  as  she  probably  called  herself,  whose  sharp 
visage  and  thin  lips  did  not  seem  to  promise  a  very 
pleasant  disposition.  "When  the  two  gentlemen  who 
sat  beside  her  arose,  she  spread  her  skirts  in  the 
endeavor  to  fill  two  seats.  Disregarding  this,  the 
boys  sat  down. 

"  There  aint  room  for  two,"  she  said  looking 
sourly  at  Frank. 

"There  were  two  here  before." 

"Well,  there  ought  not  to  have  been.  Some 
people  like  to  crowd  in  where  they're  not  wanted." 

"  And  some  like  to  take  up  a  double  allowance  of 
room,"  thought  Frank ;  but  he  did  not  say  so.  He 
saw  that  the  woman  had  a  bad  temper,  and  thought 
it  wisest  to  say  nothing. 

Frank  had  never  ridden  up  the  city  as  far  as  this, 
and  it  was  with  much  interest  that  he  looked  out 
of  the  car  windows  at  the  stores    on  either    side. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  97 

Third  Avenue  is  a  broad  street,  Ibut  in  the  character 
of  its  houses  and  stores  it  is  quite  inferior  to  Broad- 
way, though  better  than  some  of  the  avenues 
further  east.  Fifth  Avenue,  as  most  of  my  readers 
already  know,  is  the  finest  street  in  the  city,  being 
lined  with  splendid  private  residences,  occupied  by 
the  wealthier  classes.  Many  of  the  cross  streets  also 
boast  houses  which  may  be  considered  palaces,  so 
elegant  are  they  externally  and  internally.  Frank 
caught  .glimpses  of  some  of  these  as  he  was  carried 
towards  the  Park. 

After  the  first  conversation,  already  mentioned, 
with  the  lady  at  his  side,  he  supposed  he  should 
have  nothing  further  to  do  with  her.  But  in  this 
he  was  mistaken.  While  he  was  busy  looking  out 
of  the  car  window,  she  plunged  her  hand  into  her 
pocket  in  search  of  her  purse,  which  she  was  unable 
to  find.  Instantly  she  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  had  been  stolen,  and  her  suspicions  fastened  upon. 
Frank,  with  whom  she  was  already  provoked  for 
"  crowding  her,"  as  she  termed  it. 

"  Conductor ! "  she  exclaimed  in  a  sharp  voice. 
7 


98  ragged  dick;  ojj, 

"What's  wanted,  ma'am?"  returned  that  func- 
tionary. 

"  I  want  you  to  come  here  right  off." 

"What's  the  matter?" 

"  My  purse  has  been  stolen.  There  was  four 
dollars  and  eighty  cents  in  it.  I  know,  because  I 
counted  it  when  I  paid  my  fare." 

"Who  stole  it?" 

"That  boy,"  she  said  pointing  to  Frank,  who 
listened  to  the  charge  in  the  most  intense  astonish- 
ment. "  He  crowded  in  here  on  purpose  to  rob  me, 
and  I  want  you  to  search  him  right  off." 

'  That's  a  lie ! "  exclaimed  Dick,  indignantly. 

1  Oh,  you're  in  league  with  him,  I  dare  say,"  said 
the  woman  spitefully.  "  You're  as  bad  as  he  is,  I'll 
be  bound." 

"  You're  a  nice  female,  you  be ! "  said  Dick,  ironi- 
cally. 

"  Don't  you  dare  to  call  me  a  female,  sir,"  said 
the  lady,  furiously. 

"  Why,  you  aint  a  man  in  disguise,  be  you?"  said 
Dick. 

"You   are   very  much   mistaken,    madam,"     said 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  99 

Frank,  quietly.  "  The  conductor  may  search  me,  if 
you  desire  it." 

A  charge  of  theft,  made  in  a  crowded  car,  of 
course  made  quite  a  sensation.  Cautious  passengers 
instinctively  put  their  hands  on  their  pockets,  to 
make  sure  that  they,  too,  had  not  been  robbed.  As 
for  Frank,  his  face  flushed,  and  he  felt  very  indig- 
nant that  he  should  even  be  suspected  of  so  mean  a 
crime.  He  had  been  carefully  brought  up,  and 
been  taught  to  regard  stealing  as  low  and  wicked. 

Dick,  on  the  contrary,  thought  it  a  capital  joke 
that  such  a  charge  should  have  been  made  against 
his  companion.  Though  he  had  brought  himself  up, 
and  known  plenty  of  boys  and  men,  too,  who  would 
steal,  he  had  never  done  so  himself.  He  thought  it 
mean.  But  he  could  not  be  expected  to  regard  it  as 
Frank  did.  He  had  been  too  familiar  with  it  in 
others  to  look  upon  it  with  horror. 

Meanwhile  the  passengers  rather  sid^d  with  the 
boys.  Appearances  go  a  great  ways,  and  Frank  did 
not  look  like  a  thief. 

"  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,  madam,"  said  a 


100  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

gentleman  sitting  opposite.  "The  lad  does  not 
look  as  if  lie  would  steal." 

"You  can't  tell  by  looks,"  said  the  lady,  sourly. 
"  They're  deceitful ;  villains  are  generally  well 
dressed." 

"Be  they?"  said  Dick.  "You'd  ought  to  see 
me  with  my  Washington  coat  on.  You'd  think  I 
was  the  biggest  villain  ever  you  saw." 

"I've no  doubt . you  are,"  said  the  lady,  scowling 
in  the  direction  of  our  hero. 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Dick.  "  'Tisn't  often 
I  get  such  fine  compliments." 

"  None  of  your  impudence,"  said  the  lady,  wrath- 
fully.     "I believe  you're  the  worst  of  the  two." 

Meanwhile  the  car  had  been  stopped. 

"How  long  are  we  going  to  stop  here?"  de- 
manded a  passenger,  impatiently.  "  I'm  in  a  hurry, 
if  none  of  the  rest  of  you  are." 

"  I  want  my  pocket-book,"  said  the  lady,  defiantly. 

"  Well,  ma'am,  I  haven't  got  it,  and  I  don't  see 
as  it's  doing  you  any  good  detaining  us  all  here." 

"  Conductor,  will  you  call  a  policeman  to  search 
that  young  scamp  ? "  continued  the  aggrieved  lady. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  101 

"  You  don't  expect  I'm  going  to  lose  my  money,  and 
do  nothing  about  it." 

"  I'll  turn  my  pockets  inside  out  if  you  want  me 
to,"  said  Frank,  proudly.  "  There's  no  need  of  a 
policeman.  The  conductor,  or  any  one  else,  maj 
search  me." 

"  Well,  youngster,"  said  the  conductor,  "  if  the 
lady  agrees,  I'll  search  you." 

The  lady  signified  her  assent. 

Frank  accordingly  turned  his  pockets  inside  out ; 
but  nothing  was  revealed  except  his  own  porte- 
monnaie  and  a  penknife 

""Well,  ma'am,  are  you  satisfied?"  asked  the 
conductor. 

"  No,  I  aint,"  said  she,  decidedly. 

"You  don't  think  he's  got  it  still?" 

"  No,  but  he's  passed  it  over  to  his  confederate, 
that  boy  there  that's  so  full  of  impudence." 

"  That's  me,"  said  Dick,  comically. 

"  He  confesses  it,"  said  the  lady ;  "I  want  him 
searched." 

"  All  right,"  said  Dick,  "  I'm  ready  for  tne  opera 


102  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

tion,  only,  as  I've  got  valooable  property  about  me, 
be  careful  not  to  drop  any  of  my  Erie  Bonds." 

The  conductor's  hand  forthwith  dove  into  Dick's 
pocket,  and  drew  out  a  rusty  jack-knife,  a  battered 
cent,  about  fifty  cents  in  change,  and  the  capacious 
pocket-book  which  he  had  received  from  the  swindler 
who  was  anxious  to  get  back  to  his  sick  family  in 
Boston. 

"  Is  that  yours,  ma'am  ? "  asked  the  conductor, 
holding  up  the  wallet  which  excited  some  amaze- 
ment, by  its  size,  among  the  other  passengers. 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  carry  a  large  pocket-book 
for  a  young  man  of  your  age,"  said  the  conductor. 

"  That's  what  I  carry  my  cash  and  valooable 
papers  in,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  suppose  that  isn't  yours,  ma'am,"  said  the  con- 
ductor, turning  to  the  lady. 

"  No,"  said  she,  scornfully.  "  I  wouldn't  carry 
round  such  a  great  wallet  at  that.  Most  likely  he's 
stolen  it  from  somebody  else." 

"  What  a  prime  detective  you'd  be  !  "  said  Dick. 
"  P'vhaps  you  know  who  I  took  it  from." 

"I  don't   know  but  my  money's  in  it,"    said  the 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW  YORK.  103 

lady,  sharply  "  Conductor,  will  you  open  that 
wallet,  and  see  what  there  is  in  it?  " 

"  Don't  disturb  the  valooable  papers,"  said  Dick, 
in  a  tone  of  pretended  anxiety. 

The  contents  of  the  wallet  excited  some  amuse- 
ment among  the  passengers. 

"  There  don't  seem  to  be  much  money  here,"  said 
the  conductor,  taking  out  a  roll  of  tissue  paper  cut 
out  in  the  shape  of  bills,  and  rolled  up. 

"  No,"  said  Dick.  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  them  were 
papers  of  no  valoo  to  anybody  but  the  owner  ?  If 
the  lady'd  like  to  borrow,  I  won't  charge  no  inter- 
est." 

"Where  is  my  money,  then?"  said  the  lady,  in 
some  discomfiture.  "  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  one  of 
the  young  scamps  had  thrown  it  out  of  the  win- 
dow." 

"  You'd  better  search  your  pocket  once  more," 
said  the  gentleman  opposite.  "I  don't  believe 
either  of  the  boys  is  in  fault.  They  don't  look  to 
me  as  if  they  would  steal." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,"   said  Frank. 

The  lady  followed  ox;t  the  suggestion,  and,  plung- 


104  RAGGED  DICK;    OK, 

ing  her  hand  once  more  into  her  pocket,  drew  out  a 
small  porte-monnaie.  She  hardly  knew  whether  to 
be  glad  or  sorry  at  this  discovery.  It  placed  her 
in  rather  an  awkward  position  after  the  fuss  she 
had  made,  and  the  detention  to  which  she  had  sub- 
jected the  passengers,  now,  as  it  proved,  for  noth- 
ing. 

"Is  that  the  pocket-book  you  thought  stolen?" 
asked  the  conductor. 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  rather  confusedly. 

"  Then  yci've  been  keeping  me  waiting  all  this 
time  for  nothing,"  he  said,  sharply.  "  I  wish  you'd 
take  care  to  be  sure  next  time  before  you  make  such 
a  disturbance  for  nothing.  I've  lost  five  minutes, 
and  shall  not  be  on  time." 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  was  the  cross  reply ;  "I  didn't 
know  it  was  in  my  pocket." 

"  It  seems  to  me  you  owe  an  apology  to  the  boys 
you  accused  of  a  theft  which  they  have  not  com- 
mitted," said  the  gentleman  opposite. 

"  I  shan't  apologize  to  anybody,"  said  the  lady, 
whose  temper  was  not  of  the  best ;  "  least  of  all  to 
such  whipper-snappers  as  they  are." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  ICb 

"  Thank  you,  ma'am,"  said  Dick,  comically ;  "  your 
handsome  apology  is  accepted.  It  aint  of  no  conse- 
quence, only  I  didn't  like  to  expose  the  contents  of 
my  valooable  pocket-book,  for  fear  it  might  excite 
the  envy  of  some  of  my  poor  neighbors." 

"  You're  a  character,"  said  the  gentleman  who 
had  already  spoken,  with  a  smile. 

"  A  bad  character !  "  muttered  the  lady. 

But  it  was  quite  evident  that  the  sympathies  of 
those  present  were  against  the  lady,  and  on  the  side 
of  the  boys  who  had  been  falsely  accused,  while 
Dick's  drollery  had  created  considerable  amusement 

The  cars  had  now  reached  Fifty-ninth  Street, 
the  southern  boundary  of  the  Park,  and  here  our 
hero  and  his  companion  got  off. 

"You'd  better  look  out  for  pickpockets,  my  lad," 
said  the  conductor,  pleasantly.  "  That  big  wallet 
of  yours  might  prove  a  great  temptation." 

"That's  so,"  said  Dick.  "That's  the  misfortin' 
of  being  rich.  Astor  and  me  don't  sleep  much  for 
fear  of  burglars  breakin'  in  and  robbin'  us  of  our 
valooable  treasures.     Sometimes  I  think  I'll  give  all 


106  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

my  money  to  an  Orphan  Asylum,  and  take  it  out  in 
board.  I  guess  I'd  make  money  by  the  operation.'* 
While  Dick  was  speaking,  the  car  rolled  away, 
and  the  boys  turned  up  Fifty-ninth  Street,  for  two 
long   blocks    yet    separated  them  from  the  Park. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  107 


CHAPTER    X. 

INTRODUCES  A  VICTIM  OF  MISPLACED  CONFIDENCE. 

"  What  a  queer  chap  you  are,  Dick ! "  said  Frank 
laughing.  "  You  always  seem  to  be  in  good 
spirits." 

"No,  I  aint  always.  Sometimes  I  have  the 
blues." 

"When?" 

"Well,  once  last  winter  it  was  awful  cold,  and 
there  was  big  holes  in  my  shoes,  and  my  gloves  and 
all  my  warm  clothes  was  at  the  tailor's.  I  felt  as  if 
life  was  sort  of  tough,  and  I'd  like  it  if  some  rich 
man  would  adopt  me,  and  give  me  plenty  to  eat  and 
drink  and  wear,  without  my  havin'  to  look  so  sharp 
after  it.  Then  agin'  when  I've  seen  boys  with  good 
homes,  and  fathers,  and  mothers,  I've  thought  I'd 
like  to  have  somebody  to  care  for  me." 

Dick's  tone  changed  as  he  said  this,  from  his 
usual  levity,   and  there  was  a  touch  of  sadness  in 


108 


RAGGED  DICK;    Off, 


it.  Frank,  blessed  with  a  good  home  and  indul* 
gent  parents,  could  not  help  pitying  the  friend- 
less boy  who  had  found  life  such  up-hill  work. 

"  Don't  say  you  have  no  one  to  care  for  you, 
Dick,"  he  said,  lightly  laying  his  hand  on  Dick's 
shoulder.  "  I  will  care  for  you." 

"Will  you?" 

"  If  you  will  let  me." 

"I  wish  you  would,"  said  Dick,  earnestly.  "I'd 
like  to  feel  that  1  have  one  friend  who  cares  for 
me." 

Central  Park  was  now  before  them,  but  it  was  far 
from  presenting  the  appearance  which  it  now  ex- 
hibits. It  had  not  been  long  since  work  had  been 
commenced  upon  it,  and  it  was  still  very  rough  and 
unfinished.  A  rough  tract  of  land,  two  miles  and 
a  half  from  north  to  south,  and  a  half  a  mile  broad, 
yery  rocky  in  parts,  was  the  material  from  which 
the  Park  Commissioners  have  made  the  present 
beautiful  enclosure.  There  were  no  houses  of  good 
appearance  near  it,  buildings  beiug  limited  mainly 
to  rude  temporary  huts  used  by  the  workmen  who 
were  employed  in  improving  it.     The  time  will  un- 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  109 

duubtedly  come  when  the  Park  will  be  surrounded 
by  elegant  residences,  and  compare  favorably  .in 
this  respect  with  the  most  attractive  parts  of  any 
city  in  the  world.  But  at  the  time  when  Frank  and 
Dick  visited  it,  not  much  could  be  said  in  favor 
either  of  the  Park  or  its  neighborhood. 

"  If  this  is  Central  Park,"  said  Frank,  who  natu- 
rally felt  disappointed,  "  I  don't  think  much  of  it. 
My  father's- got  a  large  pasture  that  is  much  nicer." 

"It'll  look  better  some  time,"  said  Dick.  " There 
aint  much  to  see  now  but  rocks.  We  will  take  a 
walk  over  it  if  you  want  to." 

"  No,"  said  Frank,  "  I've  seen  as  much  of  it  as  I 
want  to.    Besides,  I  feel  tired." 

"  Then  we'll  go  back.  We  can  take  the  Sixth 
Avenue  cars.  They  will  bring  us  out  at  Vesey 
Street,  just  beside  the  Astor  House." 

"All  right,"  said  Frank.  "That  will  be  the  best 
course.  I  hope,"  he  added,  laughing,  "  our  agree- 
able lady  friend  won't  be  there.  I  don't  care  about 
being  accused  of  stealing  again." 

"  She  was  a  tough  one,"  said  Dick.  "  Wouldn't 
6he  make  a  nice  wife  for  a  man  that  likes  to  live  in 


110  BAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

hot  water,  and  didn't  mind  bein'  scalded  two  or  three 
times   a  day?" 

"  Yes,  I  think  she'd  just  suit  him.  Is  that  the 
right  car,  Dick?" 

"Yes,   jump  in,  and  I'll  follow." 

The  Sixth  Avenue  is  lined  with  stores,  many  of 
them  of  very  good  appearance,  and  would  make  a 
very  respectable  principal  street  for  a  good-sized 
city.  But  it  is  only  one  of  several  long  business 
streets  which  run  up  the  island,  and  illustrate  the 
extent  and  importance  of  the  city  to  which  they  be- 
long. 

No  incidents  worth  mentioning  took  place  during 
their  ride  down  town.  In  about  three-quarters1  of 
an  hour  the  boys  got  out  of  the  car  beside  the  As- 
tor  House. 

"  Are  you  goin'  in  now,  Frank?"  asked  Dick. 

"That  depends  upon  whether  you  have  anything 
else  to  show  me." 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  go  to  "Wall  Street?  " 

"  That's  the  street  where  there  are  so  many  bank- 
ers and  brokers, —  isn't  it?  " 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  Ill 

"  Yes,  I  s'pose  you  aint  afraid  of  bulls  and  bears, 
-—are  you?  " 

"  Bulls  and  bears  ?  "  repeated  Frank,  puzzled. 

"  Yes." 

"What  are  they?  » 

"  The  bulls  is  what  tries  to  make  the  stocks  go 
up,  and  the  bears  is  what  try  to  growl  'em  down." 

•'  Oh,  I  see.    Yes,  I'd  like  to  go." 

Accordingly  they  walked  down  on  the  west  side 
of  Broadway  as  far  as  Trinity  Church,  and  then, 
crossing,  entered  a  street  not  very  wide  or  very  long, 
but  of  very  great  importance.  The  reader  would 
be  astonished  if  he  could  know  the  amount  of  money 
involved  in  the  transactions  which  take  place  in  a 
single  day  in  this  street.  It  would  be  found  that 
although  Broadway  is  much  greater  in  length,  and 
lined  with  stores,  it  stands  second  to  Wall  Street 
in  this  respect. 

"What  is  that  large  marble  building?"  asked 
Frank,  pointing  to  a  massive  structure  on  the  corner 
of  Wall  and  Nassau  Streets.  It  was  in  the  form  of 
a  parallelogram,  two  hundred  feet  long  by  ninety 


112  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

wide,  and  about  eighty  feet  in  height,  the  ascent  to 
the  entrance  being  by  eighteen  granite  steps. 

"  That's  the  Custom  House,"  said  Dick. 

"  It  looks  like  pictures  I've  seen  of  the  Parthenon 
at  Athens,"  said  Frank,  meditatively. 

"Where's  Athens?"  asked  Dick.  "It  aint  in 
York  State,— is  it?" 

"Not  the  Athens  I  mean,  at  any  rate.  It  is  in 
Greece,  and  was  a  famous  city  two  thousand  years 
ago." 

"  That's  longer  than  I  can  remember,"  said  Dick. 
"I  can't  remember  distinctly  more'n  about  a  thou- 
sand years." 

"  "What  a  chap  you  are,  Dick !  Do  you  know  if 
we  can  go  in?" 

The  boys  ascertained,  after  a  little  inquiry,  that 
they  would  be  allowed  to  do  so.  They  accordingly 
entered  the  Custom  House  and  made  their  way  up 
to  the  roof,  from  which  they  had  a  fine  view  of  the 
harbor, '  the  wharves  crowded  with  shipping,  and  the 
neighboring  shores  of  Long  Island  and  New  Jersey. 
Towards  the  north  they  looked  down  for  many 
miles  upon  continuous    lines   of   streets,  and  thou- 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  113 

sands  of  roofs,  with  here  and  there  a  church-spire 
rising  above  its  neighbors.  Dick  had  never  before 
been  up  there,  and  he,  as  well  as  Frank,  was  inter- 
ested in  the  grand  view  spread  before  them. 

At  length  they  descended,  and  were  going  down 
the  granite  steps  on  the  outside  of  the  building, 
when  they  were  addressed  by  a  young  man,  whose 
appearance  is  worth  describing. 

He  was  tall,  and  rather  loosely  put  together,  with 
small  eyes  and  rather  a  prominent  nose.  His  cloth- 
ing had  evidently  not  been  furnished  by  a  city 
tailor.  He  wore  a  blue  coat  with  brass  buttons, 
and  pantaloons  of  rather  scanty  dimensions,  which 
were  several  inches  too  short  to  cover  his  lower 
limbs.  He  held  in  his  hand  a  piece  of  paper,  and 
his  countenance  wore  a  look  of  mingled  bewilder- 
ment and  anxiety. 

"Be  they  a-payin'  out  money  inside  there?"  he 
asked,  indicating  the  interior  by  a  motion  of  his  hand. 

"  I  guess  so,"  said  Dick.  "  Are  you  a  goin'  in 
for  some  ?  " 

"  Wal,  yes.  I've  got  an  order  here  for  sixty 
dollars,  —  made  a  kind  of  speculation  this  morning." 
8 


114  MAGGED  DICK;   OR, 

"  How  was  it?  "  asked  Frank. 

"Wal,  you  see  I  brought  down  some  money  to 
put  in  the  bank,  fifty  dollars  it  was,  and  I  hadn't 
justly  made  up  my  mind  what  bank  to  put  it  into, 
when  a  chap  came  up  in  a  terrible  hurry,  and  said  it 
fras  very  unfortunate,  but  the  bank  wasn't  open, 
and  he  must  have  some  money  right  off.  He  was 
obliged  to  go  out  of  the  city  by  the  next  train.  I 
asked  him  how  much  he  wanted.  He  said  fifty 
dollars.  I  told  him  I'd  got  that,  and  he  offered  me 
a  check  on  the  bank  for  sixty,  and  I  let  him  have 
it.  I  thought  that  was  a  pretty  easy  way  to  earn 
ten  dollars,  so  I  counted  out  the  money  and  he  went 
off.  He  told  me  I'd  hear  a  bell  ring  when  they  be- 
gan to  pay  out  money.  But  I've  waited  most  two 
hours,  and  I  haint  heard  it  yet.  I'd  ought  to  be 
goin',  for  I  told  dad  I'd  be  home  to-night.  Do 
you  think  I  can  get  the  money  now?" 

"Will  you  show  me  the  check?"  asked  Frank, 
who  had  listened  attentively  to  the  countryman's 
story,  and  suspected  that  he  had  been  made  the  vic- 
tim   of   a  swindler.    It  was   made    out  upon   the 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  115 

"  "Washington  Bank,"  in  the  sum  of  sixty  dollars, 
and  was  signed  "Ephraim  Smith." 

"  "Washington  Bank !  "  repeated  Frank.  "  Dick,  is 
there  such  a  bank  in  the  city?  " 

"  Not  as  I  knows  on,"  said  Dick.  "  Leastways  I 
don't  own   any  shares  in  it." 

"Aint  this  the  Washington  Bank?"  asked  the 
countryman,  pointing  to  the  building  on  the  steps  of 
which  the  three  were  now  standing. 

"  No,  it's  the  Custom  House." 

"And  won't  they  give  me  any  money  for  this?" 
asked  the  young  man,  the  perspiration  standing  on 
his  brow. 

"  I  am  afraid  the  man  who  gave  it  to  you  was  a 
swindler,"  said  Frank,  gently. 

"  And  won't  I  ever  see  my  fifty  dollars  again  ? " 
asked  the  youth  in  agony. 

"  I  am  afraid  not." 

"  What'll  dad  say?"  ejaculated  the  miserable 
youth.  "  It  makes  me  feel  sick  to  think  of  it.  I 
wish  I  had  the  feller  here.  I'd  shake  him  out  of 
his  boots." 

"What  did  he  look  like  ?    I'll  call  a  policeman 


116  BAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

and  you  shall  describe  him.  Perhaps  in  that  way 
you  can  get  track  of  your  money."  . 

Dick  called  a  policeman,  who  listened  to  the  de- 
scription, and  recognized  the  operator  as  an  experi- 
enced swindler.  He  assured  the  countryman  that 
there  was  very  little  chance  of  his  ever  seeing  his 
money  again.  The  boys  left  the  miserable  youth 
loudly  bewailing  his  bad  luck,  and  proceeded  on 
their  way  down  the   street. 

"  He's  a  baby,"  said  Dick,  contemptuously.  "  He'd 
ought  to  know  how  to  take  care  of  himself  and  his 
money.  A  feller  has  to  look  sharp  in  this  city,  or 
he'll  lose  his  eye-teeth  before  he  knows  it." 

"  I  suppose  you  never  got  swindled  out  of  fifty 
dollars,  Dick?" 

"  No,  I  don't  carry  no  such  small  bills.  I  wish  I 
did,"  he  added. 

"  So  do  I,  Dick.  What's  that  building  there  at 
the  end  of  the  street  ?  " 

"  That's  the  Wall-Street  Ferry  to  Brooklyn."      . 

"  How  long  does  it  take  to  go  across  ?  " 

"  Not  more'n  five  minutes." 

"  Suppose  we  just  ride  over  and  back." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  117 

"  All  right ! "  said  Dick.  "  It's  rather  expensive ; 
but.  if  you  don't  mind,  I  don't." 

"Why,  how  much  does  it  cost?" 

"  Two  cents  apiece." 

"  I  guess  I  can  stand  that.     Let  us  go." 

They  passed  the  gate,  paying  the  fare  to  a  man 
who  stood  at  the  entrance,  and  were  soon  on  the 
ferry-boat,   bound  for  Brooklyn. 

They  had  scarcely  entered  the  boat,  when  Dick, 
grasping  Frank  by  the  arm,  pointed  to  a  man  just 
outside  of  the  gentlemen's  cabin. 

"  Do  you  see  that  man,  Frank?  "  he  inquired. 

"Yes,  what  of  him?" 

"  He's  the  man  that  cheated  the  country  chap  out 
of  his  fifty  dollars." 


118  JRAGGED  DICK;   OB, 


CHAPTER    XI. 


DICK  AS  A  DETECTIVE. 


Dick's  ready  identification  of  the  rogue  who  had 
cheated  the  countryman,  surprised  Frank. 

"What  makes  you  think  it  is  he?"  he  asked. 

"  Because  I've  seen  him  before,  and  I  know  he's 
up  to  them  kind  of  tricks.  When  I  heard  how  he 
looked,  I  was  sure  I  knowed  him." 

"  Our  recognizing  him  won't  be  of  much  use," 
said  Frank.  "  It  won't  give  back  the  countryman 
his  money." 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dick,  thoughtfully.  "May 
be  I  can  get  it." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Frank,  incredulously. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  and  you'll  see." 

Dick  left  his  companion,  and  went  up  to  the  man 
whom  he  suspected. 

"  Ephraim  Smith,"  said  Dick,  in  a  low  voice. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  119 

The  man  turned  suddenly,  and  looked  at  Dick 
•nneasily. 

"What  did  you  say?"  he  asked. 

"  I  believe  your  name  is  Ephraim  Smith,"  con- 
tinued Dick. 

"  You're  mistaken,"  said  the  man,  and  was  about 
to  move  off. 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  said  Dick.  "  Don't  you  keep 
your  money  in  the  Washington  Bank?" 

"  I  don't  know  any  such  bank.  I'm  in  a  hurry, 
young  man,  and  I  can't  stop  to  answer  any  foolish 
questions." 

The  boat  had  by  this  time  reached  the  Brooklyn 
pier,  and  Mr.  Ephraim  Smith  seemed  in  a  hurry 
to  land. 

"Look  here,"  said  Dick,  significantly;  "you'd 
better  not  go  on  shore  unless  you  want  to  jump  into 
the  arms  of  a  policeman." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  the  man,  startled. 

"  That  little  affair  of  yours  is  known  to  the 
police,"  said  Dick ;  "  about  how  you  got  fifty  dollars 
out  of  a  greenhorn  on  a  false  check,  and  it  mayn't 
be  safe  for  you  to  go  ashore." 


120  BAGGED  DICK;   OB, 

"I  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about,"  said 
the  swindler  with  affected  boldness,  though  Dick 
could  see  that  he  was  ill  at  ease. 

"  Yes  you  do,"  said  Dick.  "  There  isn't  but  one 
thing  to  do.  Just  give  me  back  that  money,  and 
I'll  see  that  you're  not  touched.  If  you  don't,  I'll 
give  you  up  to  the  first  p'liceman  we  meet." 

Dick  looked  so  determined,  and  spoke  so  con- 
fidently, that  the  other,  overcome  by  his  fears,  no 
longer  hesitated,  but  passed  a  roll  of  bills  to  Dick 
and  hastily  left  the  boat. 

All  this  Frank  witnessed  with  great  amazement, 
not  understanding  what  influence  Dick  could  have 
obtained    over    the    swindler    sufficient    to    compel 

m 

restitution. 

"  How  did  you  do  it?"  he  asked  eagerly. 

"  I  told  him  I'd  exert  my  influence  with  the  presi- 
dent to  have  him  tried  by  habeas  corpus"  said  Dick. 

"  And  of  course  that  frightened  him.  But  tell  me, 
without  jokirjg,  how  you  managed." 

Dick  gave  a  truthful  account  of  what  occurred,  and 
then  said,  "  Now  we'll  go  back  and  carry  the 
money." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  121 

"  Suppose  we  don't  find  the  poor  countryman  ? " 

"  Then  the  p'lice  will  take  care  of  it." 

They  remained  on  board  the  boat,  and  in  five 
minutes  were  again  in  New  York.  Going  up  Wall 
Street,  they  met  the  countryman  a  little  distance 
from  the  Custom  House.  His  face  was  marked  with 
the  traces  of  deep  anguish ;  but  in  his  case  even  grief 
could  not  subdue  the  cravings  of  appetite.  He  had 
purchased  some  cakes  of  one  of  the  old  women  who 
spread  out  for  the  benefit  of  passers-by  an  array  of 
apples  and  seed-cakes,  and  was  munching  them  with 
melancholy  satisfaction. 

"Hilloa!"  said  Dick.  "Have  you  found  your 
money  ?  " 

"  No,"  ejaculated  the  young  man,  with  a  convulsive 
gasp.  "  I  shan't  ever  see  it  again.  The  mean 
skunk's  cheated  me  out  of  it.  Consarn  his  picter !  It 
took  me  most  six  months  to  save  it  up.  I  was 
Vvorkin'  for  Deacon  Pinkham  in  our  place.  Oh,  I 
wish  I'd  never  come  to  New  York !  The  deacon,  he 
told  me  he'd  keep  it  for  me  ;  but  I  wanted  to  put  it  in 
the  bank,  and  now  it's  all  gone,  boo  hoo  ! " 

And  the  miserable  youth,  having  despatched  his 


122  RAGGED   DICK;    OB, 

cakes,  was  so  overcome  by  the  thought  of  his  loss 
that  he  burst  into  tears. 

"I  say,"  said  Dick,  "dry  up,  and  see  what  I've 
got  here." 

The  youth  no  sooner  saw  the  roll  of  bills,  and  com- 
prehended that  it  was  indeed  his  lost  treasure,  than 
from  the  depths  of  anguish  he  was  exalted  to  the 
most  ecstatic  joy.  He  seized  Dick's  hand,  and  shook 
it  with  so  much  energy  that  our  hero  began  to  feel 
rather  alarmed  for  its  safety. 

"  'Pears  to  me  you  take  my  arm  for  a  pump- 
handle,"  said  he.  "  Couldn't  you  show  your  gratitood 
some  other  way?  It's  just  possible  I  may  want  to 
use  my  arm  ag'in  some  time." 

The  young  man  desisted,  but  invited  Dick  most 
cordially  to  come  up  and  stop  a  week  with  him  at  his 
country  home,  assuring  him  that  he  wouldn't  charge 
him  anything  for  board. 

"  All  right ! "  said  Dick.  "  If  you  don't  mind  I'll 
bring  my  wife  along,  too.  She's  delicate,  and  the 
country  air  might  do  her  good." 

Jonathan  stared  at  him  in  amazement,  uncertain 
whether  to  credit  the  fact  of  his  marriage.     Dick 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  125 

walked  on  with  Frank,  leaving  him  in  an  apparent 
state  of  stupefaction,  and  it  is  possible  that  he  has 
not  yet  settled  the  affair  to  his  satisfaction. 

"  Now,"  said  Frank,  "  I  think  I'll  go  back  to  the 
Astor  House.  Uncle  has  probably  got  through  his 
business  and   returned." 

"  All  right,"  said  Dick. 

The  two  boys  walked  up  to  Broadway,  just  where 
the  tall  steeple  of  Trinity  faces  the  street  of  bankers 
and  brokers,  and  walked  leisurely  to  the  hotel. 
When  they  arrived  at  the  Astor  House,  Dick  said, 
"  Good-by,  Frank." 

"Not  yet,"  said  Frank;  "I  want  you  to  come  in 
with  me." 

Dick  followed  his  young  patron  up  the  steps. 
Frank  went  to  the  reading-room,  where,  as  he  had 
thought  probable,  he  found  his  uncle  already  arrived, 
and  reading  a  copy  of  "  The  Evening  Post,"  which  he 
had  just  purchased  outside. 

"  Well,  boys,"  he  said,  looking  up,  "  have  you  had 
a  pleasant  jaunt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Frank.     "  Dick's  a  capital  guide." 

"  So  this  is  Dick,"  said  Mr.  Whitney,  surveying 


124  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

him  with  a  smile.  "  Upon  my  word,  I  should  hardly 
have  known  him.  I  must  congratulate  him  on  his 
improved  appearance." 

"  Frank's  been  very  kind  to  me,"  said  Dick,  who, 
rough  street-boy  as  he  was,  had  a  heart  easily  touched 
by  kindness,  of  which  he  had  never  experienced  much. 
"  lie's  a  tip-top  fellow." 

"  I  believe  he  is  a  good  boy,"  said  Mr.  Whitney. 
"  I  hope,  my  lad,  you  will  prosper  and  rise  in  the 
world.  You  know  in  this  free  country  poverty  in 
early  life  is  no  bar  to  a  man's  advancement.  I 
haven't  risen  very  high  myself,"  he  added,  with  a 
smile,  "  but  have  met  with  moderate  success  in  life.; 
yet  there  was  a  time  when  I  was  as  poor  as  you." 

"  Were  you,  sir  ?  "  asked  Dick,  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  my  boy,  I  have  known  the  time  when  I 
have  been  obliged  to  go  without  my  dinner  because  I 
didn't  have  enough  money  to  pay  for  it." 

"  How  did  you  get  up  in  the  Avorld?  "  asked  Dick, 
anxiously. 

"  I  entered  a  printing-office  as  an  apprentice,  and 
worked  for  some  years.  Then  my  eyes  gave  out 
and  I  was  obliged  to  give  that  up.     Not  knowing 


STREET  LIFE    IN  NEW   YORK.  125 

what  else  to  do,  I  went  into  the  country,  and 
worked  on  a  farm.  After  a  while  I  was  lucky 
enough  to  invent  a  machine,  which  has  brought  me 
in  a  great  deal  of  money.  But  there  was  one  thing 
I  got  while  I  was  in  the  printing-office  which  I  value 
more  than  money." 

"  What  was  that,  sir?" 

"A  taste  for  reading  and  study.  During  my 
leisure  hours  I  improved  myself  by  study,  and  ac- 
quired a  large  part  of  the  knowledge  which  I  new 
possess.  Indeed,  it  was  one  of  my  books  that  first 
put  me  on  the  track  of  the  invention,  which  I  after- 
wards made.  So  you  see,  my  lad,  that  my  studious 
habits  paid  me  in  money,  as  well  as  in  another  way." 
_"I'm  awful  ignorant,"  said  Dick,  soberly. 

"  But  you  are  young,  and,  I  judge,  a  smart  boy. 
If  you  try  to  learn,  you  can,  and  if  you  ever  expect 
to  do  anything  in  the  world,  you  must  know  some- 
thing of  books." 

"  I  will,"  said  Dick,  resolutely.  "  I  aint  always 
goin'  to  black  boots  for  a  livin'." 

"  All  labor  is  respectable,  my  lad,  and  you  have 
no  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  any  honest  business  ;  yet 


j.26  BAGGED    VICE;    Oil, 

when  you  can  get  something  to  do  that  promises 
better  for  your  future  prospects,  I  advise  you  to  do 
so.  Till  then  earn  your  living  in  the  way  you  are 
accustomed  to,  avoid  extravagance,  and  save  up  a 
little  money  if  you  can." 

"Thank  you  for  your  advice,"  said  our  hero. 
"  There  aint  many  that  takes  an  interest  in  Ragged 
Dick." 

"So that's  your  name,"  said  Mr.  Whitney.  "If 
I  judge  you  rightly,  it  won't  be  long  before  you 
change  it.  Save  your  money,  my  lad,  buy  books, 
and  determine  to  be  somebody,  and  you  may  yet 
fill  an  honorable  position." 

"  I'll   try,"    said  Dick.      "  Good-night,  sir." 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Dick,"  said  Frank.  "  Your 
blacking-box  and  old  clothes  are  upstairs.  You 
may  want  them." 

"  In  course,"  said  Dick.  "  I  couldn't  get  along 
without  my  best  clothes,  and  my  stock  in  trade." 

"  You  may  go  up  to  the  room  with  him,  Frank," 
said  Mr.  Whitney.  "The  clerk  will  give  you  the 
key.     I  want  to  see  you,  Dick,  before  you  go." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Dick. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  127 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  sleep  to-night,  Dick  ? " 
asked  Frank,  as  they  went  upstairs  together. 

"P'r'aps  at  the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel — on  the  out- 
side," said  Dick. 

"Haven't  you  any  place  to  sleep,  then?" 

"  I  slept  in  a  box,  last  night." 

"In  a  box?" 

"  Yes,  on  Spruce  Street." 

"  Poor  fellow ! "  said  Frank,  compassionately. 

"Oh,  'twas  a  bully  bed — full  of  straw!  I  slept 
like  a  top." 

"  Don't  you  earn  enough  to  pay  for  a  room, 
Dick?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick ;  "  only  I  spend  my  money  fool- 
ish, goin'  to  the  Old  Bowery,  and  Tony  Pastor's,  and 
sometimes  gamblin'  in  Baxter  Street." 

"  You  won't  gamble  any  more,  —  will  you,  Dick?" 
said  Frank,  laying  his  hand  persuasively  on  his  com- 
panion's  shoulder. 

"  No,  I  won't,"  said  Dick. 

"  You'll  promise  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  keep  it.  You're  a  good  feller.  I 
wish  you  was  goin'  to  be  in  New  York." 


128  bagged  dick;  OS, 

"  I  am  going  to  a  boarding-school  in  Connecticut. 
The  name  of  the  town  is  Barnton.  Will  you  write 
tome,  Dick?" 

"  My  writing  would  look  like  hens'  tracks,"  said 
our  hero. 

"Never  mind.  I  want  you  to  write.  When  you 
write  you  can  tell  me  how  to  direct,  and  I  will  send 
you  a  letter." 

"  I  wish  you  would,"  said  Dick.  "  I  wish  I  was 
more  like  you." 

"  I  hope  you  will  make  a  much  better  boy,  Dick. 
Now  we'll  go  in  to  my  uncle.  He  wishes  to  see  you 
before  you  go." 

They  went  into  the  reading-room.  Dick  had 
wrapped  up  his  blacking-brush  in  a  newspaper  with 
which  Frank  had  supplied  him,  feeling  that  a  guest 
of  the  Astor  House  should  hardly  be  seen  coming 
out  of  the  hotel  displaying  such  a  professional  sign. 

"  Uncle,  Dick's  ready  to  go,"  said  Frank. 

"  Good-by,  my  lad,"  said  Mr.  Whitney.  "  I 
hope  to  hear  good  accounts  of  you  sometime.  Don't 
forget  what  1  have  told  you.     Remember  that  your 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  129 

future  position  depends  mainly  upon  yourself,  and 
that  it  will  be  high  or  low  as  you  choose  to  make  it." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  in  which  was  a  five-dollar 
bill.     Dick  shrunk  back. 

"I  don't  like  to  take  it,"  he  said.  "I  haven't 
earned  it." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  Mr.  Whitney ;  "  but  I  give  it 
to  you  because  I  remember  my  own  friendless  youth. 
I  hope  it  may  be  of  service  to  you.  Sometime  when 
you  are  a  prosperous  man,  you  can  repay  it  in  the 
form  of  aid  to  some  poor  boy,  who  is  struggling  up- 
ward as  you  are  now." 

'*  I  will,  sir,"  said  Dick,  manfully. 

He  no  longer  refused  the  money,  but  took  it  grate- 
fully, and,  bidding  Frank  and  his  uncle  good-by, 
went  out  into  the  street.  A  feeling  of  loneliness 
came  over  him  as  he  left  the  presence  of  Frank,  for 
whom  he  had  formed  a  strong  attachment  in  the  few 

hours  he  had  known  him. 
9 


130  RAGGED  DICK;    OR* 


CHAPTER    XII. 

DICK  HIRES  A  ROOM  ON  MOTT  STREET. 

Going  out  into  the  fresh  air  Dick  felt  the  pangs  of 
hunger.  He  accordingly  went  to  a  restaurant  and 
got  a  substantial  supper.  Perhaps  it  was  the  new 
clothes  he  wore,  which  made  him  feel  a  little  more 
aristocratic.  At  all  events,  instead  of  patronizing 
the  cheap  restaurant  where  he  usually  procured  his 
meals,  he  went  into  the  refectory  attached  to  Love- 
joy's  Hotel,  where  the  prices  were  higher  and  the 
company  more  select.  In  his  ordinary  dress,  Dick 
would  have  been  excluded,  but  now  he  had  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  very  respectable,  gentlemanly  boy, 
whose  presence  would  not  discredit  any  establish- 
ment. His  orders  were  therefore  received  with  at- 
tention by  the  waiter,  and  in  clue  time  a  good  supper 
was  placed  before  him. 

"  I  wish  I  could  come  here  every  day,"  thought 
Dick.     "  It  seems  kind  o'  nice  and  'spectable,  side 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW   YORK.  131 

of  the  other  place.  There's  a  gent  at  that  other 
table  that  I've  shined  boots  for  more'n  once.  He 
don't  know  me  in  my  new  clothes.  Guess  he  don't 
know  his  boot-black  patronizes  the  same  establish- 
ment." 

His  supper  over,  Dick  went  up  to  the  desk,  and, 
presenting  his  check,  tendered  in  payment  his  five- 
dollar  bill,  as  if  it  were  one  of  a  large  number  which 
he  possessed.  Receiving  back  his  change  he  went 
out  into  the  street. 

Two  questions  now  arose :  How  should  he  spend 
the  evening,  and  where  should  he  pass  the  night? 
Yesterday,  with  such  a  sum  of  money  in  his  posses- 
sion, he  would  have  answered  both  questions  readily. 
For  the  evening,  he  would  have  passed  it  at  the  Old 
Bowery,  and  gone  to  sleep  in  any  out-of-the-way 
place  that  offered.  But  he  had  turned  over  a  new 
leaf,  or  resolved  to  do  so.  He  meant  to  save  his 
money  for  some  useful  purpose, —  to  aid  his  advance- 
ment in  the  world.  So  he  could  not  afford  the 
theatre.  Besides,  with  his  new  clothes,  he  was 
unwilling  to    pass  the   night  out  of  doors. 


132  RAGGED   DICE;    OR, 

"I  should  spile  'em,"  he  thought,  "and  that 
wouldn't  pay." 

So  he  determined  to  hunt  up  a  room  which  he 
could  occupy  regularly,  and  consider  as  his  own, 
where  he.  could  sleep  nights,  instead  of  depending 
on  boxes  and  old  wagons  for  a  chance  shelter.  This 
would  be  the  first  step  towards  respectability,  and 
Dick  determined  to  take  it. 

He  accordingly  passed  through  the  City  Hall 
Park,  and  walked  leisurely  up  Centre  Street. 

He  decided  that  it  would  hardly  be  advisable  for 
him  to  seek  lodgings  in  Fifth  Avenue,  although  his 
present  cash .  capital  consisted  of  nearly  five  dollars 
in  money,  besides  the  valuable  papers  contained  in 
his  wallet.  Besides,  he  had  reason  to  doubt 
whether  any  in  his  line  of  business  lived  on  that 
aristocratic  street.  He  took  his  way  to  Mott  Street, 
which  is  considerably  less  pretentious,  and  halted  in 
front  of  a  shabby  brick  lodging-house  kept  by  a  Mrs. 
Mooney,  with  whose  son  Tom,  Dick  was  acquainted. 

Dick  rang  the  bell,  which  sent  back  a  shrill  metal- 
lic response. 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  slatternly  servant,  who 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  133 

looked  at  him  inquiringly,  and  not  without  curiosity. 
It  must  be  remembered  that  Dick  was  well  dressed, 
and  that  nothing  in  his  appearance  bespoke  his 
occupation.  Being  naturally  a  good-looking  boy,  he 
might  readily  be  mistaken  for  a  gentleman's  son. 

"Well,  Queen  Victoria,"  said  Dick,  "is  your 
missus  at  home  ?  " 

"  My  name's  Bridget,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Oh,  indeed ! "  said  Dick.  "  You  looked  so 
much  like  the  queen's  picter  what  she  gave  me  last 
Christmas  in  exchange  for  mine,  that  I  couldn't 
help  calling  you  by  her  name." 

"  Oh,  go  along  wid  ye  !  "  said  Bridget.  "  It's 
makin'  fun  ye  are." 

"  If  you  don't  believe  me,"  said  Dick,  gravely, 
"  all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  ask  my  partic'lar  friend, 
the  Duke  of  Newcastle." 

"  Bridget !  "  called  a  shrill  voice  from,  the  'base- 
ment. 

"  The  missus  is  calling  me,"  said  Bridget,  hur- 
riedly.    "  I'll  tell  her  ye  want  her." 

"All  right!"  said  Dick. 

The  servant  descended  into  the  lower  regions,  and 


134  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

in  a  short  time  a  stout,  red-faced  woman  appeared 
on  the  scene. 

"  Well,  sir,  what's  your  wish  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Have  you  got  a  room  to  let?"  asked  Dick. 

"Is  it  for  yourself  you  ask?"  questioned  the 
woman,  in  some  surprise. 

Dick  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  I  haven't  got  any  very  good  rooms  vacant. 
There's   a  small  room   in  the  third  story." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  it,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  don't  know  as  it  would  be  good  enough  for 
you,"  said  the  woman,  with  a  glance  at  Dick's 
clothes. 

"  I  aint  very  partic'lar  about  accommodations," 
said  our  hero.     "  I  guess  I'll  look  at  it." 

Dick  followed  the  landlady  up  two  narrow  stair- 
cases, uncarpeted  and  dirty,  to  the  third  landing, 
where  he  was  ushered  into  a  room  about  ten  feet 
square.  It  could  not  be  considered  a  very  desirable 
apartment.  It  had  once  been  covered  with  an  oilcloth 
carpet,  but  this  was  now  very  ragged,  and  looked 
worse  than  none.  There  was  a  single  bed  in  the 
corner,  covered  with  an  indiscriminate  heap  of  bed- 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW   YORK.  135 

clothing,  rumpled  and  not  over-clean.  There  was  a 
bureau,  with  the  veneering  scratched  and  in  some 
parts  stripped  off,  and  a  small  glass,  eight  inches  by 
ten,  cracked  across  the  middle ;  also  two  chairs  in 
rather  a  disjointed  condition.  Judging  from  Dick's 
appearance,  Mrs.  Mooney  thought  he  would  turn 
from  it  in  disdain. 

But  it  must  be  remembered  that  Dick's  past  ex- 
perience had  not  been  of  a  character  to  make  him 
fastidious.  In  comparison  with  a  box,  or  an  empty 
wagon,  even  this  little  room  seemed  comfortable. 
He  decided  to  hire  it  if  the  rent  proved  reasonable. 

"Well,  what's  the  tax?"  asked  Dick. 

"  I  ought  to  have  a  dollar  a  week,"  said  Mrs. 
Mooney,  hesitatingly. 

"Say  seventy-five  cents,  and  I'll  take  it,"  said 
Dick. 

"  Every  week  in  advance?" 

"  Yes." 

"Well,  as  times  is  hard,  ana  I  can't  afford  to 
keep  it  empty,  you  may  have  it.  When  will  you 
come?" 

*«  To-night,"  said  Dick. 


136  RAGGED   DICK;    O/?, 

"  lit  aint  lookin'  very  neat.  I  don't  know  as  I 
can  fix  it  np  to-night." 

"Well,  I'll  sleep  here  to-night,  and  yom  can  fix  it 
up  to-morrow." 

"I  hope  you'll  excuse  the  looks.  I'm  a  lone 
woman,  and  my  help  is  so  shiftless,  I  have  to  look 
after  everything  myself;  so  I  can't  keep  things  as 
straight  as  I  want  to." 

"  All  right !  "  said  Dick. 

"  Can  you  pay  me  the  first  week  in  advance?" 
asked  the  landlady,  cautiously. 

Dick  responded  by  drawing  seventy-five  cents 
from  his  pocket,  and  placing  it  in  her  hand. 

"What's  your  business,  sir,  if  I  may  inquire?" 
said  Mrs.  Mooney. 

"  Oh,  I'm  professional !  "  said  Dick. 

"Indeed!"  said  the  landlady,  who  did  not  feel 
much  enlightened  by  this  answer. 

"How's  Tom?"   asked  Dick. 

"Do  you  know  my  Tom?"  said  Mrs.  Mooney  in 
surprise.  "He's  gone  to  sea,  —  to  Californy.  He 
went  last  week." 

"  Did  he?"  said  Dick.     "  Yes,  I  knew  him." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  187 

Mrs.  Mooney  looked  upon  her  new  lodger  with 
increased  favor,  on  finding  that  he  was  acquainted 
with  her  son,  who,  by  the  way,  was  one  of  "the  worst 
young  scamps  in  Mott  Street,  which  is  saying  con- 
siderable. 

"I'll  bring  over  my  baggage  from  the  Astor 
House  this  evening,"  said  Dick  in  a  tone  of  impor- 
tance. 

"  From  the  Astor  House  ! "  repeated  Mrs.  Mooney, 
in  fresh  amazement. 

"  Yes,  I've  been  stoppin'  there  a  short  time  with 
some  friends,"  said  Dick 

Mrs.  Mooney  might  be  excused  for  a  little  amaze- 
ment at  finding  that  a  guest  from  the  Astor  House 
was  about  to  become  one  of  her  lodgers  —  such 
transfers  not  being  common. 

"Did  you  say  you  was  purfessional ? "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  Dick,  politely. 

"You  aint  a  —  a  —  "  Mrs.  Mooney  paused,  un- 
certain what  conjecture  to  hazard. 

"  Oh,  no,  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Dick,  prompt- 
ly.    "  How  could  you  think  so,  Mrs.  Mooney?  " 


138  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

"No  offence,  sir,"  said  the  landlady,  more  per 
plexed  than  ever. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  our  hero.  "  But  you  musi 
excuse  me  now,  Mrs.  Mooney,  as  I  have  business 
of  ^reat  importance  to  attend  to." 

"You'll  come  round  this  evening?" 

Dick  answered  in  the  affirmative,  and  turned  away. 

"  I  wonder  what  he  is ! "  thought  the  landlady, 
following  him  with  her  eyes  as  he  crossed  the  street. 
"He's  got  good  clothes  on,  but  he  don't  seem  very 
particular  about  his  room.  "Well ;  I've  got  all  my 
rooms  full  now.     That's  one  comfort." 

Dick  felt  more  comfortable  now  that  he  had  taken 
the  decisive  step  of  hiring  a  lodging,  and  paying  a 
week's  rent  in  advance.  For  seven  nights  he  was 
sure  of  a  shelter  and  a  bed  to  sleep  in.  The  thought 
was  a  pleasant  one  to  our  young  vagrant,  who  hith- 
erto had  seldom  known  when  he  rose  in  the  morning 
where  he  should  find  a  resting-place  at  night. 

"I  must  bring  my  traps . round,"  said  Dick  to 
himself.  "I  guess  I'll  go  to  bed  early  to-night. 
It'll    feel    kinder  good   to   sleep  in   a   reg'lar   bed. 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW    YORK.  13$ 

Boxes  is  rather  hard  to  the  back,  and  aint  com- 
fortable in  case  of  rain.  I  wonder  what  Johnny 
Nolan  would  say  if  he  knew  I'd  got  a  room  of  my 
own." 


140  RAGGED  DICK;    0.R, 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

MICKY  MAGUIRE. 

About  nine  o'clock  Dick  sought  his  new  lodgings. 
In  Ms  hands  he  carried  his  professional  wardrobe, 
namely,  the  clothes  which  he  had  worn  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  day,  and  the  implements  of  his 
business.  These  he  stowed  away  in  the  bureau 
drawers,  and  by  the  light  of  a  flickering  candle 
took  off  his  clothes  and  went  to  bed.  Dick  had  a 
good  digestion  and  a  reasonably  good  conscience ; 
consequently  he  was  a  good  sleeper.  Perhaps,  too, 
the  soft  feather  bed  conduced  to  slumber.  At  any 
rate  his  eyes  were  soon  closed,  and  he  did  not 
awake  until  half-past  sis  the  next  morning. 

He  lifted  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  stared  around 
him  in  transient  bewilderment. 

"  Blest  if  I  hadn't  forgot  where  I  was,"  he  said 
to  himself.  "So  this  is  my  room,  is  it?  Well,  it 
Beems  kind  of  'spectable  to  have  a  room  and  a  bed 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  141 

to  sleep  in.  I'd  orter  be  able  to  afford  seventy-five 
cents  a  week.  I've  thro  wed  away  more  money  than 
that  in  one  evenin'.  There  aint  no  reason  why  I 
shouldn't  live  'spectable.  I  wish  I  knowed  as  much 
as  Frank.  He's  a  tip-top  feller.  Nobody  ever  cared 
enough  for  me  before  to  give  me  good  advice.  It 
was  kicks,  and  cuffs,  and  swearin'  at  me  all  the 
time.  I'd  like  to  show  him  I  can  do  something." 
While  Dick  was  indulging  in  these  reflections,  he 
had  risen  from  bed,  and,  finding  an  accession  to 
the  furniture  of  his  room,  in  the  shape  of  an  ancient 
wash-stand  bearing  a  cracked  bowl  and  broken  pitch 
er,  indulged  himself  in  the  rather  unusual  ceremony 
of  a  good  wash.  On  the  whole,  Dick  preferred  to 
be  clean,  but  it  was  not  always  easy  to  gratify 
his  desire.  Lodging  in  the  street  as  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  do,  he  had  had  no  opportunity  to 
perform  his  toilet  in  the  customary  manner.  Even 
now  he  found  himself  unable  to  arrange  his  dishev- 
elled locks,  having  neither  comb  nor  brush.  He 
determined  to  purchase  a  comb,  at  least,  as  soon  as 
possible,  and  a  brush  too,  if  he  could  get  one  cheap. 
Meanwhile  he  combed  his  hair  with  his  fingers  as 


142  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

well  as  he  could,  though  the  result  was  not  quite 
so  satisfactory  as  it  might  have  been. 

A  question  now  came  up  for  consideration.  For 
the  first  time  in  his  life  Dick  possessed  two  suits  of 
clothes.  Should  he  put  on  the  clothes  Frank  had 
given  him,  or  resume  his  old  rags? 

Now,  twenty-four  hours  before,  at  the  time  Dick 
was  introduced  to  the  reader's  notice,  no  one  could 
have  been  less  fastidious  as  to  his  clothing  than  he. 
Indeed,  he  had  rather  a  contempt  for  good  clothes,  or 
at  least  he  thought  so.  But  now,  as  he  surveyed  the 
ragged  and  dirty  coat  and  the  patched  pants,  Dick 
felt  ashamed  of  them.  He  was  unwilling  to  appear 
in  the  streets  with  them.  Yet,  if  he  went  to  work 
in  his  new  suit,  he  was  in  danger  of  spoiling  it, 
and  he  might  not  have  it  in  his  power  to  purchase 
a  new  one.  Economy  dictated  a  return  to  the  old 
garments.  Dick  tried  them  on,  and  surveyed  him- 
self in  the  cracked  glass ;  but  the  reflection  did  not 
please  him. 

"  They  don't  look  'spectable,"  he  decided ;  and, 
forthwith  taking  them  off  again,  he  put  on  the  new 
Buit  of  the  day  before. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  143 

"I  must  try  to  earn  a  little  more,"  he  thought, 
"  to  pay  for  my  room,  and  to  buy  some  new  clo'es 
when  these  is  wore  out." 

He  opened  the  door  of  his  chamber,  and  went 
downstairs  and  into  the  street,  carrying  his  black- 
ing-bos with  him. 

It  was  Dick's  custom  to  commence  his  business 
before  breakfast ;  generally  it  must  be  owned,  be- 
cause he  began  the  day  penniless,  and  must  earn 
his  meal  before  he  ate  it.  To-day  it  was  different. 
He  had  four  dollars  left  in  his  pocket-book ;  but  this 
he  had  previously  determined  not  to  touch.  In  fact 
he  had  formed  the  ambitious  design  of  starting  an  ac- 
count at  a  savings'  bank,  in  order  to  have  something 
to  fall  back  upon  in  case  of  sickness  or  any  other 
emergency,  or  at  any  rate  as  a  reserve  fund  to  expend 
in  clothing  or  other  necessary  articles  when  he  re- 
quired them.  Hitherto  he  had  been  content  to  live  on 
from  day  to  day  without  a  penny  ahead ;  but  the  new 
vision  of  respectability  which  now  floated  before  Dick's 
mind,  owing  to  his  recent  acquaintance  with  Frank, 
was  beginning  to  exercise  a  powerful  effect  upon  him. 

In  Dick's  profession  as  in  others  there  are  lucky 


144  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

days,  when  everything  seems  to  flow  prosperously. 
As  if  to  encourage  him  in  his  new-born  resolution, 
our  hero  obtained  no  less  than  six  jobs  in  the  course 
of  an  hour  and  a  half.  This  gave  him  sixty  cents, 
quite  abundant  to  purchase  his  breakfast,  and  a  comb 
besides.  His  exertions  made  him  huugry,  and,  en 
tering  a  small  eating-house  he  ordered  a  cup  of  cof- 
fee and  a  beefsteak.  To  this  he  added  a  couple  of 
rolls.  This  was  quite  a  luxurious  breakfast  for 
Dick,  and  more  expensive  than  he  was  accustomed 
to  indulge  himself  with.  To  gratify  the  curiosity 
of  my  youug  readers,  I  will  put  down  the  items 
with  their  cost,  — 

Coffee, 5  cts. 

Beefsteak,       .        .        .        .  15 

A  couple  of  rolls,         .        .        .        5 

25  cts. 

It  will  thus  be  seen  that  our  hero  had  expended 
nearly  one-half  of  his  morning's  earnings.  Some 
days  he  had  been  compelled  to  breakfast  on  five 
cents,  and  then  he  was  forced  to  content  himself  with 
a  couple  of  apples,  or  cakes.  But  a  good  breakfast  is 
a  good  preparation  for  a  busy  day,  and  Dick  sallied 


STREET  LIFE  JJV  NEW  YORK.  145 

forth  from  the  restaurant  lively  and  alert,  ready  to  do 
a  good  stroke  of  business. 

Dick's  change  of  costume  was  liable  to  lead  to  one 
result  of  which  he  had  not  thought.  His  brother 
boot-blacks  might  think  he  had  grown  aristocratic, 
and  was  putting  on  airs, — that,  in  fact,  he  was 
getting  above  his  business,  and  desirous  to  outshine 
his  associates.  Dick  had  not  dreamed  of  this,  because 
in  fact,  in  spite  of  his  new-born  ambition,  he  en- 
tertained no  such  feelings.  There  was  nothing  of 
what  boys  call  "  big-feeling  "  about  him.  He  was  a 
thorough  democrat,  using  the  word  not  politically, 
but  in  its  proper  sense,  and  was  disposed  to  fraternize 
with  all  whom  he  styled  "  good  fellows,"  without  re- 
gard to  their  position.  It  may  seem  a  little  un- 
necessary to  some  of  my  readers  to  make  this  ex- 
planation ;  but  they  must  remember  that  pride  and 
"big-feeling"  are  confined  to  no  age  or  class,  but 
may  be  found  in  boys  as  well  as  men,  and  in  boot- 
blacks as  well  as  those  of  a  higher  rank. 

The  morning  being  a  busy  time  with  the  boot- 
blacks, Dick's  changed  appearance  had  not  as  yet 
attracted  much  attention.  But  when  business  slack- 
10 


146  RAGGED    DICK;    OR, 

ened  a  little,  our  hero  was  destined  to  be  reminded 
of  it. 

Among  the  down-town  boot-blacks  was  one  hailing 
from  the  Five  Points,  —  a  stout,  red-haired,  freckled- 
faced  boy  of  fourteen,  bearing  the  name  of  Micky 
Maguire.  This  boy,  by  his  boldness  and  recklessness, 
as  well  as  by  his  personal  strength,  which  was  con- 
siderable, had  acquired  an  ascendency  among  his 
fellow  professionals,  and  had  a  gang  of  subservient 
followers,  whom  he  led  on  to  acts  of  ruffianism,  not  un- 
frequently  terminating  in  a  month  or  two  at  Black- 
well's  Island.  Micky  himself  had  served  two  terms 
there  ;  but  the  confinement  appeared  to  have  had  very 
little  effect  in  amending  his  conduct,  except,  perhaps, 
in  making  him  a  little  more  cautious  about  an  en- 
counter with  the  "  copps,"  as  the  members  of  the 
city  police  are,  for  some  unknown  reason,  styled 
among  the   Five-Point  boys. 

Now  Micky  was  proud  of  his  strength,  and  of  the 
position  of  leader  which  it  had  secured  him.  More- 
over he  was  democratic  in  his  tastes,  and  had  a 
jealous  hatred  of  those  who  wore  good  clothes  and 
kept  their  faces  clean.    He  called  it  putting  on  airs, 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  147 

and  resented  the  implied  superiority.  If  he  had  "been 
fifteen  years  older,  and  had  a  trifle  more  education, 
he  would  have  interested  himself  in  politics,  and  been 
prominent  at  ward  meetings,  and  a  terror  to  respect- 
able voters  on  election  day.  As  it  was,  he  con- 
tented himself  with  being  the  leader  of  a  gang  of 
young  ruffians,  over  whom  he  wielded  a  despotic 
power. 

Now  it  is  only  justice  to  Dick  to  say  that,  so  far  as 
wearing  good  clothes  was  concerned,  he  had  never 
hitherto  offended  the  eyes  of  Micky  Maguire.  In- 
deed, they  generally  looked  as  if  they  patronized  the 
same  clothing  establishment.  On  this  particular 
morning  it  chanced  that  Micky  had  not  been  very 
fortunate  in  a  business  way,  and,  as  a  natural  con- 
sequence, his  temper,  never  very  amiable,  was  some- 
what ruffled  by  the  fact.  He  had  had  a  very  frugal 
breakfast,  —  not  because  he  felt  abstemious,  but  owing 
to.  the  low  state  of  his  finances.  He  was  walking 
along  with  one  of  his  particular  friends,  a  boy  nick- 
named Limpy  Jim,  so  called  from  a  slight  peculiarity 
in  his  walk,  when  all  at  once  he  espied  our  friend 
Dick  in  his  new  suit. 


148  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

"  My  eyes  !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  astonishment ;  "  Jim, 
just  look  at  Ragged  Dick.  He's  come  into  a  fortun', 
and  turned  gentleman.     See  his  new  clothes." 

"  So  he  has,"  said  Jim.  "  Where'd  he  get  'em,  I 
wonder  ?  " 

"Hooked  'em,  p'r'aps.  Let's  go  and  stir  him  up  a 
little.  We  don't  want  no  gentlemen  on  our  beat. 
So  he's  puttin'  on  airs, — is  he?  I'll  give  him  a 
lesson." 

So  saying  the  two  boys  walked  up  to  our  hero,  who 
had  not  observed  them,  his  back  being  turned,  and 
Micky  Maguire  gave  him  a  smart  slap  on  the  shoul- 
der. 

Dick  turned  round  quickly. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  149 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


A  BATTLE   AND   A  VICTORY. 


"  What's  that  for  ?  "  demanded  Dick,  turning  round 
to  see  who  had  struck  him. 

"You're  gettin'  mighty  fine  !"  said  Micky  Maguire, 
surveying  Dick's  new  clothes  with  a  scornful  air. 

There  was  something  in  his  words  and  tone,  which 
Dick,  who  was  disposed  to  stand  up  for  his  dignity, 
did  not  *  at  all  relish. 

"Well,  what's  the  odds -if  I  am?"  he  retorted. 
"Does  it  hurt  you  any?" 

"  See  him  put  on  airs,  Jim,"  said  Micky,  turning 
to  his  companion.     "  Where'd  you  get  them  clo'es  ? " 

"  Never  mind  where  I  got  'em.  Maybe  the  Prince 
of  Wales  gave  'em  to  me." 

"  Hear  him,  now,  Jim,"  said  Micky.  "  Most 
likely  he  stole  'em." 

"  Stealin'  aint  in  my  line." 

It  might  have  been  unconscious  the  emphasis  which 


150  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

Dick  placed  on  the  word  "  my."  At  any  rate  Micky 
chose  to  take  offence. 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  I  steal?"  he  demanded, 
doubling  up  his  fist,  and  advancing  towards  Dick  in 
a  threatening  manner. 

"  I  don't  say  anything  about  it,"  answered  Dick, 
by  no  means  alarmed  at  this  hostile  demonstration. 
"  I  know  you've  been  to  the  island  twice.  P'raps 
'twas  to  make  a  visit  along  of  the  Mayor  and  Alder- 
men. Maybe  you  was  a  innocent  victim  of  oppres- 
sion.    I  aint  a  goin'  to  say." 

Mickey's  freckled  face  grew  red  with  wrath,  for 
Dick  had  only  stated  the  truth. 

"Do  you  mean  to  insult  me?"  he  demanded 
shaking  the  fist  already  doubled  up  in  Dick's  face. 
"  Maybe  you  want  a  lickin'  ?  " 

"I  aint  partic'larly  anxious  to  get  one,"  said 
Dick,  coolly.  "  They  don't  agree  with  my  constitu- 
tion which  is  nat'rally  delicate.  I'd  rather  have  a 
good  dinner  than  a  lickin'  any  time." 

"  Your*re  afraid,"  sneered  Micky.  '*  Isn't  he, 
Jim?" 

"  In  course  he  is." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  151 

"  P'r'aps  I  am,"  said  Dick,  composedly,  "  but  it 
don't  trouble  me  mucb." 

"Do  you  want  to  figbt?"  demanded  Micky,  en- 
couraged by  Dick's  quietness,  fancying  be  was 
afraid  to  encounter  bim. 

"No,  I  don't,"  said  Dick.  "I  aint  fond  of 
figbtin'.  It's  a  very  poor  amusement,  and  very  bad 
for  tbe  complexion,  'specially  for  tbe  eyes  and  nose, 
wbicb  is  apt  to  turn  red,  wbite,  and  blue." 

Micky  misunderstood  Dick,  and  judged  from  tbe 
tenor  of  bis  speecb  tbat  be  would  be  an  easy  victim. 
As  be  knew,  Dick  very  seldom  was  concerned  in  any 
street  figbt,  —  not  from  cowardice,  as  be  imagined, 
but  because  be  bad  too  mucb  good  sense  to  do  so. 
Beiug  quarrelsome,  like  all  bullies,  and  supposing 
tbat  be  was  more  than  a  matcb  for  our  bero,  being 
about  two  incbes  taller,  he  could  no  longer  resist  an 
inclination  to  assault  bim,  and  tried  to  plant  a  blow 
in  Dick's  face  wbicb  would  bave  hurt  him  consid- 
erably if  he  had  not  drawn  back  just  in  time. 

Now,  though  Dick  was  far  from  quarrelsome,  he  was 
ready  to  defend  himself  on  all  oc  jasions,  and  it  was 


152  RAGGED   DICK;    Oil, 

too  much  to  expect  that  he  would  stand  quiet  and 
allow  himself  to  be  beaten. 

He  dropped  his  blacking-box  on  the  instant,  and 
returned  Micky's  blow  with  such  good  effect  that  the 
young  bully  staggered  back,  and  would  have  fallen, 
if  he  had  not  been  propped  up  by  his  confederate, 
Limpy  Jim. 

"  Go  in,  Micky !  "  shouted  the  latter,  who  was 
rather  a  coward  on  his  own  account,  but  liked  to  see 
others  fight.     "  Polish  him  off,  that's  a  good  feller." 

Micky  was  now  boiling  over  with  rage  and  fury, 
and  required  no  urging.  He  wa,s  fully  determined 
to  make  a  terrible  example  of  poor  Dick.  He  threw 
himself  upon  him,  and  strove  to  bear  him  to  the 
ground ;  but  Dick,  avoiding  a  close  hug,  in  which 
he  might  possibly  have  got  the  worst  of  it,  by  an 
adroit  movement,  tripped  up  his  antagonist,  and 
stretched  him  on  the  sidewalk. 

"  Hit  him,  Jim !  "  exclaimed  Micky,  furiously. 

Limpy  Jim  did  not  seem  inclined  to  obey  orders. 
There  was  a  quiet  strength  and  coolness  about  Dick, 
which  alarmed  him.    He  preferred  that  Micky  should 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  153 

incur  all  the  risks  of  battle,  and  accordingly  set  him- 
self to  raising  his  fallen  comrade. 

"  Come,  Micky,"  said  Dick,  quietly,  "  you'd  bet- 
ter give  it  up.  I  wouldn't  have  touched  you  if  you 
hadn't  hit  me  first.  I  don't  want  to.  fight.  It's  low 
business." 

"  You're  afraid  of  hurtin'  your  clo'es,"  said  Micky, 
with  a  sneer. 

"  Maybe  I  am,"  said  Dick.  "  I  hope  I  haven't 
hurt  yours." 

Micky's  answer  to  this  was  another  attack,  as 
violent  and  impetuous  as  the  first.  But  .his  fury 
was  in  the  way.  He  struck  wildly,  not  measuring 
his  blows,  and  Dick  had  no  difficulty  in  turning 
aside,  so  that  his  antagonist's  blow  fell  upon  the 
empty  air,  and  his  momentum  was  such  that  he 
nearly  fell  forward  headlong.  Dick  might  readily 
have  taken  advantage  of  his  unsteadiness,  and 
knocked  him  down ;  but  he  was  not  vindictive,  and 
chose  to  act  on  the  defensive,  except  when  he  could 
not  avoid  it. 

Recovering  himself,  Micky  saw  that  Dick  was  a 
more  formidable  antagonist  than  he  had  supposed, 


154  RAGGED  DICK;   OR, 

and  was  meditating  another  assault,  better  planned, 
which  by  its  impetuosity  might  bear  our  hero  to  the 
ground.  But  there  was  an  unlooked-for  interfer- 
ence. 

"  Look  out  for  the  '  copp,'"  said  Jim,  in  a  low  voice. 

Micky  turned  round  and  saw  a  tall  policeman 
heading  towards  him,  and  thought  it  might  be  pru- 
dent to  suspend  hostilities.  He  accordingly  picked 
up  his  blacking-box,'  and,  hitching  up  his  pants, 
walked  off,  attended  by  Limpy  Jim. 

"  What's  that  chap  been  doing?"  asked  the  police- 
man of  Dick. 

"  He  was  amoosin'  himself  by  pitchin'  into  me," 
replied  Dick. 

"What  for?" 

"  He  didn't  like  it  'cause  I  patronized  a  different 
tailor  from  him." 

"  Well,  it  seems  to  me  you  are  dressed  pretty 
smart  for  a  boot-black,"  said  the  policeman. 

"  I  wish  I  wasn't  a  boot-black,"  said  Dick. 

"  Never  mind,  my  lad.  It's  an  honest  business," 
Baid  the  policeman,  who  was  a  sensible  man  and  a 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  155 

worthy  citizen.  "  It's  an  honest  business.  Stick  to 
it  till  you  get  something  better." 

"  I  mean  to,"  said  Dick.  "  It  aint  easy  to  get  out 
of  it,  as  the  prisoner  remarked,  when  he  was  asked 
how  he  liked  his  residence." 

"  I  hope  you  don't  speak  from  experience." 

"  No,"  said  Dick ;  "  I  don't  mean  to  get  into  prison 
if  I  can  help  it." 

"  Do  you  see  that  gentleman  over  there?"  asked 
the  officer,  poiuting  to  a  well-dressed  man  who  was 
walking  on  the  other  side  of  the  street. 

«  Yes." 

"  Well,  he  was  once  a  newsboy." 

"  And  what  is  he  now?  " 

"  He  keeps  a  bookstore,  and  is  quite  prosper- 
ous." 

Dick  looked  at  the  gentleman  with  interest,  won- 
dering if  he  should  look  as  respectable  when  he  was 
a,  grown  man. 

It  will  be  seen  that  Dick  was  getting  ambitious. 
Hitherto  he  had  thought  very  little  of  the  future,  but 
was  content  to  get  along  as  he  could,  dining  as  well 
as  his  means  would  allow,  and  spending  the  evenings 


156  RAGGED  DICK;   OR, 

in  the  pit  of  the  Old  Bowery,  eating  peanuts  between 
the  acts  if  he  was  prosperous,  and  if  unlucky  supping 
on  dry  bread  or  an  apple,  and  sleeping  in  an  old  box 
or  a  wagon.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  began  to  re- 
flect that  he  could  not  black  boots  all  his  life.  In 
seven  years  he  would  be  a  man,  and,  since  his  meet- 
ing with  Frank,  he  felt  that  he  would  like  to  be  a 
respectable  man.  He  could  see  and  appreciate  the 
difference  between  Frank  and  such  a  boy  as  Micky 
Maguire,  and  it  was  not  strange  that  he  preferred  the 
society  of  the  former. 

In  the  course  of  the  next  morning,  in  pursuance  of 
his  new  resolutions  for  the  future,  he  called  at  a 
savings  bank,  and  held  out  four  dollars  in  bills  be- 
sides another  dollar  in  change.  There  was  a  high 
railing,  and  a  number  of  clerks  busily  writing  at 
desks  behind  it.  Dick,  never  having  been  in  a  bank 
before,  did  not  know  where  to  go.  He  went,  by 
mistake,  to  the  desk  where  money  was  paid  out. 

"  Where's  your  book?"  asked  the  clerk. 

"  I  haven't  got  any." 

"Have you  any  money  deposited  here?" 

"  No,  sir,  I  want  to  leave  some  here." 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW  TOIiK.  157 

"  Then  go  to  the  next  desk." 

Dick  followed  directions,  and  presented  himself 
before  an  elderly  man  with  gray  hair,  who  looked  at 
him  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles. 

"I  want  you  to  keep  that  for  me,"  said  Dick, 
awkwardly  emptying  his  money  out  on  the  desk. 

"  How  much  is  there?  " 

"Five  dollars." 

4v  Have  you  got  an  account  here  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Of  course  you  can  write  ?  " 

The  "  of  course "  was  said  on  account  of  Dick's 
neat  dress. 

"Have  I  got  to  do  any  writing?"  asked  our  hero, 
a  little  embarrassed. 

"  We  want  you  to  sign  your  name  in  this  book," 
and  the  old  gentleman  shoved  round  a  large  folio 
volume  containing  the  names  of  depositors. 

Dick  surveyed  the  book  with  some  awe. 

"  I  aint  much  on  writin',"  he  said. 

"  Very  well ;  write  as  well  as  joxi  can." 

The  pen  was  put  into  Dick's  hand,  and,  after 
dipping  it  in  the  inkstand,  he  succeeded  after  a  hard 


158  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

effort,  accompanied  by  many  contortions  of  the  face, 
in  inscribing  upon  the  book  of  the  bank  the  name 
Dick  Hunter. 

"Dick!  —  that  means  Richard,  I  suppose,"  said 
the  bank  officer,  who  had  some  difficulty  in  making 
out  the  signature. 

"  No  ;  Ragged  Dick  is  what  folks  call  me." 

"You  don't  look  very  ragged." 

"  No,  I've  left  my  rags  to  home.  They  might  get 
wore  out  if  I  used  'em  too  common." 

"  Well,  my  lad,  I'll  make  out  a  book  in  the  name 
of  Dick  Hunter,  since  you  seem  to  prefer  Dick  to 
Richard.  I  hope  you  will  save  up  your  money  and 
deposit  more  with  us." 

Our  hero  took  his  bank-book,  and  gazed  on  the 
entry  "  Five  Dollars  "  with  a  new  sense  of  importance. 
He  had  been  accustomed  to  joke  about  Erie  shares, 
but  now,  for  the  first  time,  he  felt  himself  a  capitalist ; 
on  a  small  scale,  to  be  sure,  but  still  it  was  no  small 
thing  for  Dick  to  have  five  dollars  which  he  could  call 
his  own.  He  firmly  determined  that  he  would  lay  by 
every  cent  he  could  spare  from  his  earnings  towards 
the  fund  he  hoped  to  accumulate. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  159 

But  Dick  was  too  sensible  not  to  know  that  there 
was  something  more  than  money  needed  to  win  a  re- 
spectable position  in  the  world.  He  felt  that  he  was 
very  ignorant.  Of  reading  and  writing  he  only  knew 
the  rudiments,  and  that,  with  a  slight  acquaintance 
with  arithmetic,  was  all  he  did  know  of  books.  Dick 
knew  he  must  study  hard,  and  he  dreaded  it.  He 
looked  upon  learning  as  attended  with  greater  diffi- 
culties than  it  really  possesses.  But  Dick  had  good 
pluck.  He  meant  to  learn,  nevertheless,  and  resolved 
to  buy  a  book  with  his  first  spare  earnings. 

When  Dick  went  home  at  night  he  locked  up  his 
bank-book  in  one  of  the  drawers  of  the  bureau.  It 
was  wonderful  how  much  more  independent  he  felt 
whenever  he  reflected  upon  the  contents  of  that 
drawer,  and  with  what  an  important  air  of  joint 
ownership  he  regarded  the  bank  building  in  which 
his  small  savings  were  deposited. 


160  RAGGED   DICK',    O/J, 


CHAPTER    XV. 


DICK   SECURES  A   TUTOR. 


The  next  morning  Dick  was  unusually  success- 
ful, having  plenty  to  do,  and  receiving  for  one  job 
twenty-five  cents,  —  the  gentleman  refusing  to  take 
change.  Then  flashed  upon  Dick's  mind  the  thought 
that  he  had  not  yet  returned  the^  change  due  to  the 
gentleman  whose  boots  he  had  blacked  on  the  morn- 
ing of  his  introduction  to  the  reader. 

"  What'll  he  think  of  me?  "  said  Dick  to  himself. 
"  I  hope  he  won't  think  I'm  mean  enough  to  keep 
the  money." 

Now  Dick  was  scrupulously  honest,  and  though 
the  temptation  to  be  otherwise  had  often  been 
strong,  he  had  always  resisted  it.  He  was  not  will- 
ing on  any  account  to  keep  money  which  did  not 
belong  to  him,  and  he  immediately  started  for  125 
Fulton  Street  (the  address  which  had  been  given 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  161 

him)  where  he  found  Mr.    Greyson's  name  on  th« 
door  of  an  office  on  the  first  floor. 

The  door  being  open,  Dick  walked  in. 

" Is  Mr.  Greyson  in?"  he  asked  of  a  clerk  who  sa 
on  a  high  stool  before  a  desk. 

"Not  just  now.  He'll  be  in  soon.  Will  you 
wait?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick. 

"  Very  well ;  take  a  seat  then." 

Dick  sat  down  and  took  up  the  morning  "  Tribune," 
but  presently  came  to  a  word  of  four  syllables, 
which  he  pronounced  to  himself  a  "  sticker,"  and 
laid  it  down.  But  he  had  not  long  to  wait,  for  five 
minutes  later  Mr.  Greyson  entered. 

"  Did  you  wish  to  speak  to  me,  my  lad? "  said  he 
to  Dick,  whom  in  his  new  clothes  he  did  not  recog- 
nize. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Dick.     "  I  owe  you  some  money." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  Mr.  Greyson,  pleasantly ;  "  that's 
an  agreeable  surprise.  I  didn't  know  but  you  had 
come  for  some.  So  you  are  a  debtor  of  mine,  and 
not  a  creditor  ?  " 

"  I  b'lieve  that's  right,"  said  Dick,  drawing  fifteen 
11 


162  RAGGED   DICK;    Oil, 

cents  from  his  pocket,  and  placing  in  Mr.  Greyson's 
hand. 

"  Fifteen  cents  ! "  repeated  he,  in  some  surprise. 
"  How  do  you  happen  to  be  indebted  to  me  in  that 
amount  ?  " 

"  You  gave  me  a  quarter  for  a-shinin'  your  boots, 
yesterday  mornin',  and  couldn't  wait  for  the  change. 
I  meant  to  have  brought  it  before,  but  I  forgot  all 
about  it  till  this  mornin'. 

"It  had  quite  slipped  my  mind  also.  But  you 
don't  look  like  the  boy  I  employed.  If  I  remember 
rightly  he  wasn't  as  well  dressed  as  you." 

"  No,"  said  Dick.  "  I  was  dressed  for  a  party, 
then,  but  the  clo'es  was  too  well  ventilated  to  be 
comfortable  in  cold  weather." 

"  You're  an  honest  boy,"  said  Mr.  Greyson. 
"Who  taught  you  to  be  honest?  " 

"  Nobody,"  said  Dick.  "  But  it's  mean  to  cheat 
and  steal.     I've  always  knowed  that." 

"  Then  you've  got  ahead  of  some  of  our  business 
men.     Do  you  read  the  Bible  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dick.  "  I've  heard  it's  a  good  book, 
but  I  don't  know  much  about  it." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  163 

"  You  ought  to  go  to  some  Sunday  School. 
Would  you  be  willing?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  promptly.  "I  want  to  grow, 
up  'spectable.     But  I  don't  know  where  to  go." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you.  The  church  I  attend  is  at 
the  corner  of  Fifth  Avenue  and  Twenty-first  Street." 

'  I've  seen  it,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  have  a  class  in  the  Sunday  School  there.  If 
70u'll  come  next  Sunday,  I'll  take  you  into  my  class, 
and  do  what  I  can  to  help  you." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dick,  "but  p'r'aps  you'll  get 
tired  of  teaching  me.      I'm  awful  ignorant." 

"  No,  my  lad,"  said  Mr.  Greyson,  kindly.  "  You 
evidently  have  some  good  principles  to  start  with, 
as  you  have  shown  by  your  scorn  of  dishonesty.  I 
shall  hope  good  things  of  you  in  the  future." 

"  "Well,  Dick,"  said  our  hero,  apostrophizing  him- 
self,  as  he  left  the  office  ;  "  you're  gettin'  up  in  the 
world.  You've  got  money  invested,  and  are  goin' 
to  attend  church,  by  partic'lar  invitation,  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  I  shouldn't  wonder  much  if  you  should 
find  cardsv  when  you  get  home,  from  the  Mayor,  re- 


164  MAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

questin'  the  honor  of  your  company  to  dinner,  along 
with  other  distinguished  guests." 

Dick  felt  in  very  good  spirits.  He  seemed  to  be 
emerging  from  the  world  in  which  he  had  hitherto 
lived,  into  a  new  atmosphere  of  respectability,  and 
the  change  seemed  very  pleasant  to  him. 

At  six  o'clock  Dick  went  into  a  restaurant  on 
Chatham  Street,  and  got  a  comfortable  supper.  He 
had  been  so  successful  during  the  day  that,  after  pay- 
ing for  this,  he  still  had  ninety  cents  left.  While 
he  was  despatching  his  supper,  another  boy  came  in, 
smaller  and  slighter  than  Dick,  and  sat  down  beside 
him.  Dick  recognized  him  as  a  boy  who  three 
months  before  had  entered  the  ranks  of  the  boot- 
blacks, but  who,  from  a  natural  timidity,  had  not 
been  able  to  earn  much.  He  was  ill-fitted  for  the 
coarse  companionship  of  the  street  boys,  and  shrank 
from  the  rude  jokes  of  his  present  associates.  Dick 
had  never  troubled  him  ;  for  our  hero  had  a  certain 
chivalrous  feeling  which  would  not  allow  him  to 
bully  or  disturb  a  younger  and  weaker  boy  than 
himself. 


STBEET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  165 

"How  are  you,  Fosdick?"  said  Dick,  as  the 
other  seated  himself. 

" Pretty  well,"  said  Fosdick.  "I  suppose  you're 
all  right." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I'm  right  side  up  with  care.  I've  been 
havin'  a  bully  supper.  What  are  you  goin'  to 
have  ?  " 

"  Some  bread  and  butter." 

"  Why  don't  you  get  a  cup  o'  coffee?" 

"Why,"  said  Fosdick,  reluctantly,  "I  haven't 
got  money  enough  to-night."  ' 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Dick ;  "  I'm  in  luck  to-day. 
I'll  stand  treat." 

"  That's  kind  in   you,"    said  Fosdick,  gratefully. 

"  Oh,  never  mind  that,"  said  Dick. 

Accordingly  he  ordered  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  a  plate 
of  beef-steak,  and  was  gratified  to  see  that  his  young 
companion  partook  of  both  with  evident  relish. 
When  the  repast  was  over,  the  boys  went  out  into 
the  street  together,  Dick  pausing  at  the  desk  to  set- 
tle for  both  suppers. 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  sleep  to-night,  Fos- 
dick?" asked  Dick,  as  they  stood  on  the  sidewalk. 


Ifi6  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

"  I  don't  know,'  said  Fosdick,  a  little  sadly.  "  In 
some  door-way,  I  expect.  But  I'm  afraid  the  police 
will  find  me  out,  and  make  me  move  on." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Dick,  "  you  must  go 
home  with  me.      I  guess  my  bed  will  hold  two.", 

"Have  you  got  a  room?"  asked  the  other,  in 
surprise. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  rather  proudly,  and  with  a 
little  excusable  exultation.  "I've  got  a  room  over 
in  Mott  Street;  there  I  can  receive  my  friends. 
That'll  be  better  than  sleepin'  in  a  door-way,  —  won't 
it?" 

"  Yes,  indeed  it  will,"  said  Fosdick.  "  How  lucky 
I  was  to  come  across  you !  It  comes  hard  to  me 
living  as  I  do.  When  my  father  was  alive  I  had 
every  comfort." 

"  That's  more'n  I  ever  had,"  said  Dick.  "  But 
I'm  goin'  to  try  to  live  comfortable  now.  Is  your 
father  dead?" 

"Yes,"  said  Fosdick,  sadly.  "He  was  a  printer; 
but  he  was  drowned  one  dark  night  from  a  Fulton 
feriy-boat,  and,  as  I  had  no  relations  in  the  city,  and 


STli^ET  LIFE  IJV  NEW   YORK.  167 

no  money,  I  was  obliged  to  go  to  work  as  quick  as  I 
could.     But  I  don't  get  on  very  well." 

"  Didn't  you  have  no  brothers  nor  sisters?"  asked 
Dick. 

"  No,"  said  Fosclick ;  "  father  and  I  used  to  live 
alone.  He  was  always  so  much  company  to  me  that 
I  feel  very  lonesome  without  him.  There's  a  man 
out  "West  somewhere  that  owes  him  two  thousand 
dollars.  He  used  to  live  in  the  city,  and  father  lent 
him  all  his  money  to  help  him  go  into  business  ;  but 
he  failed,  or  pretended  to,  and  went  off.  If  father 
hadn't  lost  that  money  he  would  have  left  me  well 
off;  but  no  money  would  have  made  up  his  loss  to 
me." 

"  What's  the  man's  name  that  went  off  with  your 
father's  money?" 

"  His  name  is  Hiram  Bates." 

"P'r'aps  you'll  get  the  money  again,  sometime." 

"There  isn't  much  chance  of  it,"  said  Fosdick. 
"  I'd  sell  out  my  chances  of  that  for  five  dollars." 

"  Maybe  I'll  buy  you  out  some  time,"  said  Dick. 
"  Now,  come  round  and  see  what  sort  of  a  room  I've 
got.     I  used  to  go  to  the  theatre  evenings,  when  I 


168  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

had  money  ;  but  now  I'd  rather  go  to  bed  early,  and 
have  a  good  sleep." 

"  I  don't  care  much  about  theatres,"  said  Fosdick. 
"Father  didn't  use  to  let  me  go  very  often.  He 
said  it  wasn't  good  for  boys." 

"I  like  to  go  to  the  Old  Bowery  sometimes. 
They  have  tip-top  plays  there.  Can  you  read  and 
write  well?"  he  asked,  as  a  sudden  thought  came 
to  him. 

"  Yes,"  said  Fosdick.  "  Father  always  kept  me 
at  school  when  he  was  alive,  and  I  stood  pretty  well 
in  my  classes.  I  was  expecting  to  enter  at  the  Free 
Academy  *  nest  year." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Dick  ;  "  I'll  make 
a  bargain  with  you.  I  can't  read  much  more'n  a 
pig  ;  and  my  writin'  looks  like  hens'  tracks.  I  don't 
want  to  grow  up  knowin'  no  more'n  a  four-year-old 
boy.  If  you'll  teach  me  readin'  and  writin'  evenin's, 
you  shall  sleep  in  my  room  every  night.  That'll  be 
bettejin  door-steps  or  old  boxes,  where  I've  slept 
many  a  time." 

*  Now  the  college  of  the  city  of  New  York. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  169 

"Are  you  in  earnest?"  said  Fosdick,  his  face 
lighting  up  hopefully. 

"  In  course  I  am,"  said  Dick.  "  It's  fashionable 
for  young  gentlemen  to  have  private  tootors  to  intro- 
troduct  'em  into  the  flower-beds  of  literatoor  and 
science,  and  why  should't  I  foller  the  fashion  ?  You 
shall  be  my  perfessor  ;  only  you  must  promise  not  to 
be  very  hard  if  my  writin'  looks  like  a  rail-fence  on  a 
bender." 

"  I'll  try  not  to  be  too  severe,"  said  Fosclick, 
iaughing.  "I  shall  be  thankful  for  such  a  chance 
to  get  a  place  to  sleep.  Have  you  got  anything  to 
read  out  of  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dick.  "  My  extensive  and  well-se- 
lected library  was  lost  overboard  in  a  storm,  when  I 
was  sailin'  from  the  Sandwich  Islands  to  the  desert 
of  Sahara.  But  I'll  buy  a  paper.  That'll  do  me  a 
long  time." 

Accordingly  Dick  stopped  at  a  paper-stand,  and 
bought  a  copy  of  a  weekly  paper,  filled  with  the 
usual  variety  of  reading  matter,  —  stories,  sketches, 
poems,  etc. 

They  soon  arrived  at  Dick's  lodging-house.     Our 


170  BAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

hero,  procuring  a  lamp  from  the  landlady,-  led  the 
way  into  his  apartment,  which  he  entered  with  the 
proud  air  of  a  proprietor. 

"Well,  how  do  you  like  it,  Fosdick?"  he  asked, 
complacently. 

The  time  was  when  Fosdick  would  have  thought-  it 
untidy  and  not  particularly  attractive.  But  he  had 
served  a  severe  apprenticeship  in  the  streets,  and  it 
was  pleasant  to  feel  himself  under  shelter,  and  he 
was  not  disposed  to  be  critical. 

"  It  looks  very  comfortable,  Dick,"  he  said. 

"The  bed  aint  very  large,"  said  Dick;  "but  I 
guess  we  can  get  along." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Fosdick,  cheerfully.  "I  don't 
take  up  much  room." 

"  Then  that's  all  right.  There's  two  chairs,  you 
see,  one  for  you  and  one  for  me.  In  case  the  mayor 
comes  in  to  spend  the  evenin'  socially,  he  can  sit  on 
the  bed." 

The  boys  seated  themselves,  and  five  minutes 
later,  under  the  guidance  of  his  young  tutor,  Dick 
had  commenced  his  studies. 


STBEET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  171 


CHAPTER    XVI. 


THE   FIRST  LESSON. 


Fortunately  for  Dick,  his  young  tutor  was  well 
qualified  to  instruct  hiin.  Henry  Fosdick,  though 
only  twelve  years  old,  knew  as  much  as  many  boys 
of  fourteen.  He  had  always  been  studious  and  am- 
bitious to  excel.  His  father,  being  a  printer,  em- 
ployed in  an  office  where  books  were  printed,  often 
brought  home  new  books  in  sheets,  which  Henry  was 
always  glad  to  read.  Mr.  Fosdick  had  been,  besides, 
a  subscriber  to  the  Mechanics'  Apprentices'  Library, 
which  contains  many  thousands  of  well-selected  and 
instructive  books.  Thus  Henry  had  acquired  an 
amount  of  general  information,  unusual  in  a  boy 
of  his  age.  Perhaps  he  had  devoted  too  much  time 
to  study,  for  he  was  not  naturally  robust.  All  this, 
however,  fitted  him  admirably  for  the  office  to  which 
Dick  had  appointed  him,  —  that  of  his  private  in- 
structor. 


172  ragged  dick;  ojs, 

The  two  boys  drew  up  their  chairs  to  the  rickety 
■\able,  and  spread  out  the  paper  before  them. 

"  The  exercises  generally  commence  with  ringin 
the  bell,"  said  Dick ;  "  but  as  I  aint  got  none,  we'll 
have  to  do  without." 

"And  the  teacher  is  generally  provided  with  a 
rod,"  said  Fosdick.  "Isn't  there  a  poker  handy, 
that  I  can  use  in  case  my  scholar  doesn't  behave 
well?" 

"  'Taint  lawful  to  use  fire-arms,"  said  Dick. 

"Now,  Dick,"  said  Fosdick,  "before  we  begin,  I 
must  find  out  how  much  you  already  know.  Can 
you  read  any  ?  " 

"  Not  enough  to  hurt  me,"  said  Dick.  "  All  I 
know  about  reaclin'  you  could  put  in  a  nutshell,  and 
there'd  be  room  left  for  a  small  family." 

"I  suppose  you  know  your  letters?" 

"Yes,"  said  Dick,  "I  know  'em  all,  but  not  inti- 
mately.    I  guess  I  can  call  'em  all  by  name." 

"  Where  did  you  learn  them?  Did  you  ever  go  to 
school ? " 

"Yes;   I  went  two  clays." 

"Why  did  you  stop?" 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW   YORK.  173 

"It  didn't  agree  with  my  constitution." 

"  You  don't  look  very  delicate,"  said  Fosclick. 

"No,"  said  Dick,  "I  aint  troubled  much  that 
way;   but  I  found  lickins  didn't  agree  with  me." 

"Did  you  get  punished?" 

"  Awful,"  said  Dick. 

"What  for?" 

"  For  indulgin'  in  a  little  harmless  amoosement," 
said  Dick.  "  You  see  the  boy  that  was  sittin'  next 
to  me  fell  asleep,  which  I  considered  improper  in 
school-time ;  so  I  thought  I'd  help  the  teacher  a 
little  by  wakin'  him  up.  So  I  took  a  pin  and  stuck 
into  him ;  but  I  guess  it  went  a  little  too  far,  for  he 
screeched  awful.  The  teacher  found  out  what  it  was 
that  made  him  holler,  and  whipped  me  with  a  ruler 
till  I  was  black  and  blue.  I  thought  'twas  about 
time  to  take  a  vacation ;  so  that's  the  last  time  I 
went  to  school." 

"  You  didn't  learn  to  read  in  that  time,  of 
course  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dick;  "but  I  was  a  newsboy  a  little 
while  ;  so  I  learned  a  little,  just  so's  to  find  out  what 
the   news  was.     Sometimes  I  didn't   read   straight, 


174  BAGGED  DICK;   OR, 

and  called  the  wrong  news.  One  mornin'  I  asked 
another  boy  what  the  paper  said,  and  he  told  rne  the 
King  of  Africa  was  dead.  I  thought  it  was  all  right 
till  folks  began  to  laugh." 

"Well,  Dick,  if  you'll  only  study  well,  you  won't 
be  liable  to  make  such  mistakes." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  Dick.  "  My  friend  Horace 
Greeley  told  me  the  other  day  that  he'd  get  me  to 
take  his  place  now  and  then  when  he  was  off  niakin' 
speeches  if  my  edication  hadn't  been  neglected." 

"  I  must  find  a  good  piece  for  you  to  begin  on," 
said  Fosdick,  looking  over  the  paper. 

"  Find  an  easy  one,"  said  Dick,  "  with  words  of  one 
story." 

Fosdick  at  length  found  a  piece  which  he  thought 
would  answer.  He  discovered  on  trial  that  Dick  had 
not  exaggerated  his  deficiencies.  Words  of  two  syl- 
lables he  seldom  pronounced  right,  and  was  much' 
surprised  when  he  was  told  how  "through"  was 
sounded. 

"  Seems  to  me  it's  throwin'  away  letters  to  use  all 
them,"  he  said. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  175 

"How  would  you  spell  it?"  asked  his  young 
teacher. 

"  T-h-r-u,"  said  Dick. 

"  Well,"  said  Fosdick,  "  there's  a  good  many  other 
words  that  are  spelt  with  more  letters  than  they  need 
to  have.  But  it's  the  fashion,  and  we  must  follow 
it." 

But  if  Dick  was  ignorant,  he  was  quick,  and  had 
an  excellent  capacity.  Moreover  he  had  persever- 
ance, and  was  not  easily  discouraged.  He  had  made 
up  his  mind  he  must  know  more,  and  was  not  dis- 
posed to  complain  of  the  difficulty  of  his  task.  Fos- 
dick had  occasion  to  laugh  more  than  once  at  his 
ludicrous  mistakes  ;  but  Dick  laughed  too,  and  on  the 
whole  both  were  quite  interested  in  the  lesson. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  and  a  half  the  boys  stopped 
for  the  evening. 

"  You're  learning  fast,  Dick,"  said  Fosdick. 
"At  this  rate  you  will  soon  learn  to  read  well." 

"Will  I?"  asked  Dick  with  an  expression  of  sat- 
isfaction. "  I'm  glad  of  that.  I  don't  want  to  be 
ignorant.  I  didn't  use  to  care,  but  I  do  now.  I 
want  to  grow  up  'spectable." 


176  BAGGED  DICK;   OR, 

"So  do  I,  Dick.  We  will  both  help  each  other, 
and  I  am  sure  we  can  accomplish  something.  But  I 
am  beginning  to  feel  sleepy." 

"  So  am  I,"  said  Dick.  "  Them  hard  words  make 
my  head  ache.     I  wonder  who  made  'em  all  ? " 

"  That's  more  than  I  can  tell.  I  suppose  you've 
seen  a  dictionary." 

"  That's  another  of  'em.  No,  I  can't  say  I  have, 
though  I  may  have  seen  him  in  the  street  without 
knowin'  him." 

"A  dictionary  is  a  book  containing  all  the  words 
in  the  language." 

"  How  many  are  there  ?  " 

"  I  don't  rightly  know ;  but  I  think  there  are  about 
fifty  thousand." 

"  It's  a  pretty  large  family,"  said  Dick.  "  Have  I 
got  to  learn  'em  all?" 

"  That  will  not  be  necessary.  There  are  a  large 
number  which  you  would  never  find  occasion  to  use." 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  said  Dick;  "for  I  don't  ex- 
pect to  live  to  be  more'n  a  hundred,  and  by  that  time 
J.  wouldn't  be  more'n  half  through." 

By  this  time  the  flickering  lamp  gave  a  decided 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORE.  177 

hint  to  the  hoys  that  unless  they  made  haste  they 
would  have  to  undress  in  the  dark.  They  accord- 
ingly drew  off  their  clothes,  and  Dick  jumped  into 
bed.  But  Fosdick,  before  doing  so,  knelt  down  by 
the  side  of  the  bed,  and  said  a  short  prayer. 

"What's  that  for?"  asked  Dick,  curiously. 

"  I  was  saying  my  prayers,"  said  Fosdick,  as  he 
rose  from  his  knees.     "  Don't  you  ever  do  it?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dick.     "  Nobody  ever  taught  me." 

"  Then  I'll  teach  you.     Shall  I  ?  " 

"L don't  know,"  said  Dick,  dubiously.  "What's 
the  good?" 

Fosdick  explained  as  well  as  he  could,  and  perhaps 
his  simple  explanation  was  better  adapted  to  Dick's 
comprehension  than  one  from  an  older  person  would 
have  been.  Dick  felt  more  free  to  ask  questions, 
and  the  example  of  his  new  friend,  for  whom  he  was 
beginning  to  feel  a  warm  attachment,  had  considera- 
ble effect  upon  him.  When,  therefore,  Fosdick  asked 
again  if  he  should  teach  him  a  prayer,  Dick  consented, 
and  his  young  bedfellow  did  so.  Dick  was  not 
naturally  irreligious.  If  he  had  lived  without  a 
knowledge  of  God  and  of  religious  things,  it  was 
12  . 


t 

178  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  in  a  lad  who,  from  an 
early  age,  had  been  thrown  upon  his  own  exertions 
for  the  means  of  living,  with  no  one  to  care  for  him 
or  give  him  good  advice.  But  he  was  so  far  good 
that  he  could  appreciate  goodness  in  others,  and  this 
it  was  that  had  drawn  him  to  Frank  in  the  first 
place,  and  now  to  Henry  Fosdick.  He  did  not, 
therefore,  attempt  to  ridicule  his  companion,  as  some 
boys  better  brought  up  might  have  done,  but  was 
willing  to  follow  his  example  in  what  something  told 
him  was  right.  Our  young  hero  had  taken  an  impor- 
tant step  towards  securing  that  genuine  respectability 
which  he  was  ambitious  to  attain. 

Weary  with  the  day's  work,  and  Dick  perhaps  still 
more  fatigued  by  the  unusual  mental  effort  he  had 
made,  the  boys  soon  sank  into  a  deep  and  peaceful 
slumber,  from  which  they  did  not  awaken  till  six 
o'clock  the  next  morning.  Before  going  out  Dick 
sought  Mrs.  Mooney,  and  spoke  to  her  on  the  sub- 
ject of  taking  Fosdick  as  a  room-mate.  He  found 
that  she  had  no  objection,  provided  he  would  allow 
her  twenty-five  cents  a  week  extra,  in  consideration 
of   the   extra  trouble   which    his   companion   might 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  179 

be  expected  to  make.  To  this  Dick  assented,  and 
the  arrangement  was  definitely  concluded. 

This  over,  the  two  boys  went  out  and  took  stations 
near  each  other.  Dick  had  more  of  a  business  turn 
than  Henry,  and  less  shrinking  from  publicity,  so 
that  his  earnings  were  greater.  But  he  had  under- 
taken to  pay  the  entire  expenses  of  the  room,  and 
needed  to  earn  more.  Sometimes,  when  two  cus- 
tomers presented  themselves  at  the  same  time,  he  was 
able  to  direct  one  to  his  friend.  So  at  the  end  of  the 
week  both  boys  found  themselves  with  surplus  earn- 
ings. Dick  had  the  satisfaction  of  adding  two 
dollars  and  a  half  to  his  deposits  in  the  Savings 
Bank,  and  Fosdick  commenced  an  account  by  de- 
positing seventy-five  cents. 

On  Sunday  morning  Dick  bethought  himself  of  his 
promise  to  Mr.  Greyson  to  come  to  the  church  on 
Fifth  Avenue.  To  tell  the  truth,  Dick  recalled  it  with 
some  regret.  He  had  never  been  inside  a  church 
since  he  could  remember,  and  he  was  not  much  at- 
tracted by  the  invitation  he  had  received.  But 
Henry,  finding  him  wavering,  urged  him  to  go,  and 
offered  to  go  with  him.     Dick  gladly  accepted  the 


180  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

offer,  feeling  that  he  required  some  one  to  lend  him 
countenance  under  such  unusual  circumstances. 

Dick  dressed  himself  with  scrupulous  care,  giving 
his  shoes  a  "  shine"  so  brilliant  that  it  did  him  great 
credit  in  a  professional  point  of  view,  and  en- 
deavored to  clean  his  hands  thoroughly ;  but,  in  spite 
of  all  he  could  do,  they  were  not  so  white  as  if  his 
business  had  been  of  a  different  character. 

Having  fully  completed  his  preparations,  he  de- 
scended into  the  street,  and,  with  Henry  by  his  side, 
crossed  over  to  Broadway. 

The  boys  pursued  their  way  up  Broadway,  which 
on  Sunday  presents  a  striking  contrast  in  its  quiet- 
ness to  the  noise  and  confusion  of  ordinary  week- 
days, as  far  as  Union  Square,  then  turned  down 
Fourteenth  Street,  which  brought  them  to  Fifth 
Avenue. 

"  Suppose  we  dine  at  Delmonico's,"  said  Fosdick, 
looking  towards  that  famous  restaurant. 

"  I'd  have  to  sell  some  of  my  Erie  shares,"  said 
Dick. 

A  short  walk  now  brought  them  to  the  church  or 
which  mention  has  already  been  made.     They  stood 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  181 

outside,  a  little  abashed,  watching  the  fashionably 
attired  people  who  were  entering,  and  were  feeling  a 
little  undecided  as  to  whether  they  had  better  enter 
also,  when  Dick  felt  a  light  touch  upon  his  shoulder. 

Turning  round,  he  met  the  smiling  glance  of  Mr. 
Greyson. 

"  So,  my  young  friend,  you  have  kept  your 
promise,"  he  said.  "  And  whom  have  you  brought 
with  you  ?  " 

"  A  friend  of  mine,"  said  Dick.  "  His  name  is 
Henry  Fosdick." 

"  I  am  glad  you  hafe  brought  him.  Now  follow 
me,  and  I  will  give  you  seats." 


182  SAGGED  dick;' OR, 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

'dick's  first  appearance  in  society. 

It  was  the  hour  for  morning  service.  The  boys 
followed  Mr.  Greyson  into  the  handsome  church,  and 
were  assigned  seats  in  his  own  pew. 

There  were  two  persons  already  seated  in  it,  —  a 
good-looking  lady  of  middle  age,  and  a  pretty  little 
girl  of  nine.  They  were  Mrs.  Greyson  and  her  only 
daughter  Ida.  They  looked  pleasantly  at  the  boys 
as  they  entered,  smiling  a  welcome  to  them. 

The  morning  service  commenced.  It  must  be 
acknowledged  that  Dick  felt  rather  awkward.  It  was 
an  unusual  place  for  him,  and  it  need  not  be  won- 
dered at  that  he  felt  like  a  cat  in  a  strange  garret. 
He  would  not  have  known  when  to  rise  if  he  had  not 
taken  notice  of  what  the  rest  of  the  audience  did,  and 
followed  their  example.  He  was  sitting  next  to  Ida, 
and  as  it  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  been  near  so 
well-dressed  a  young  lady,  he  naturally  felt  bashful 


STREET  LIFE  IN>NEW  YORK.  183 

When  the  hymns  were  announced,  Ida  found  the 
place,  and  offered  a  hymn-book  to  our  hero.  Dick 
took  it  awkwarcuy,  but  his  studies  had  not  yet  been 
pursued  far  enough  for  him  to  read  the  words  readily. 
However,  he  resolved  to  keep  up  appearances,  and 
kept  his  eyes  fixed  steadily  on  the  hymn-book. 

At  length  the  service  was  over.  The  people  began 
to  file  slowly  out  of  church,  and  among  them,  of 
course,  Mr.  Greyson's  family  and  the  two  boys.  It 
seemed  very  strange  to  Dick  to  find  himself  in  such 
different  companionship  from  what  he  had  been  ac- 
customed, and  he  could  not  help  thinking,  "  Wonder 
what  Johnny  Nolan  'ould  say  if  he  could  see  me 
now ! " 

But  Johnny's  business  engagements  did  not  often 
summon  him  to  Fifth  Avenue,  and  Dick  was  not 
likely  to  be  seen  by  any  of  his  friends  in  the  lower 
part  of  the  city. 

"  We  have  our  Sunday  school  in  the  afternoon," 
said  Mr.  Greyson.  "I  suppose  you  live  at  some 
distance  from  here?" 

'6In  Mott  Street,sir,"  answered  Dick. 

"  That  is  too  far  to  go  and  return.     Suppose  you 


1&4  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

and  your  friend  come  and  dine  with  us,  and  then  we 
can  come  here  together  in  the  afternoon." 

Dick  was  as  much  astonished  at  this  invitation  a3 
if  iie  had  really  been  invited  by  the  Mayor  to  dine 
with  him  and  the  Board  of  Aldermen.  Mr.  Greyson 
was  evidently  a  rich  man,  and  yet  he  had  actually 
invited  two  boot-blacks  to  dine  with  him. 

"  I  guess  we'd  better  go  home,  sir,"  said  Dick,  hesi- 
tating. 

"  I  don't  think  you  can  have  any  very  pressing 
engagements  to  interfere  with  your  accepting  my 
invitation,"  said  Mr.  Greyson,  good-humoredly,  for 
he  understood  the  reason  of  Dick's  hesitation.  "  So 
I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  both  accept." 

Before  Dick  fairly  knew  what  he  intended  to  do, 
he  was  walking  down  Fifth  Avenue  with  his  new 
friends. 

Now,  our  young  hero  was  not  naturally  bashful ; 
but  he  certainly  felt  so  now,  especially  as  Miss  Ida 
Greyson  chose  to  walk  by  his  side,  leaving  Henry 
Fosdick  to  walk  with  her  father  and  mother. 

"  What  is  your  name?"  asked  Ida,  pleasantly. 

Our  hero  was  about  to  answer  "  Bagged  Dick," 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  185 

when  it  occurred  to  him  that  in  the  present  company 
he  had  better  forget  his  old  nickname. 

"  Dick  Hunter,"  he  answered. 

"Dick!"  repeated  Ida.  "That  means  Eichard 
doesn't  it?" 

"  Everybody  calls  me  Dick." 

"  I  have  a  cousin  Dick,"  said  the  young  lady, 
sociably.  "  His  name  is  Dick  Wilson.  I  suppose 
you  don't  know  him  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  like  the  name  of  Dick,"  said  the  young  lady, 
with  charming  frankness. 

Without  being  able  to  tell  why,  Dick  felt  rather 
glad  she  did.  He  plucked  up  courage  to  ask  her 
name. 

"My  name  is  Ida,"  answered  the  young  lady. 
"Do  you  like  it?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick.     "  It's  a  bully  name." 

Dick  turned  red  as  soon  as  he  had  said  it,  for  he 
felt  that  he  had  not  used  the  right  expression. 

The  little  girl  broke  into  a  silvery  laugh. 

"  What  a  funny  boy  you  are  ! "  she  said. 


186  MAGGED  DICK;   OR, 

"  I  didn't  mean  it,"  said  Dick,  stammering.  "  I 
meant  it's  a  tip-top  name." 

Here  Ida  laughed  again,  and  Dick  wished  himself 
back  in  Mott  Street. 

"  How  old  are  you?  "  inquired  Ida,  continuing  her 
examination. 

"  I'm  fourteen,  — goin'  on  fifteen,"  said  Dick. 

"  You're  a  big  boy  of  your  age,"  said  Ida.  "  My 
cousin  Dick  is  a  year  older  than  you,  but  he  isn't  as 
large." 

Dick  looked  pleased.  Boys  generally  like  to  be 
told  that  they  are  large  of  their  age. 

"  How  old  be  you?  "  asked  Dick,  beginning  to  feel 
more  at  his  ease. 

"I'm  nine  years  old,"  said  Ida.  "I  go  to  Miss 
Jarvis's  school.  I've  just  begun  to  learn  French. 
Do  you  know  French  ?  " 

"  Not  enough  to  hurt  me,"  said  Dick. 

Ida  laughed  again,  and  told  him  that  he  was  a 
droll  boy. 

"  Do  you  like  it?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  I  like  it  pretty  well,  except  the  verbs.  I  can't 
remember  them  well.    Do  you  go  to  school  ?  " 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  187 

"  I'm  studying  with  a  private  tutor,"  said  Dick. 

"Are  you?  So  is  my  cousin  Dick.  He's  going 
to  college  this  year.     Are  you  going  to  college?" 

"  Not  this  year." 

"Because,  if  you  did,  you  know  you'd  be  in  the 
same  class  with  my  cousin.  It  would  be  funny  to 
have  two  Dicks  in  one  class." 

They  turned  down  Twenty-fourth  Street,  passing 
the  Fifth  Avenue  Hotel  on  the  left,  and  stopped  be- 
fore an  elegant  house  with  a  brown  stone  "front. 
The  bell  was  rung,  and  the  door  being  opened,  the 
boys,  somewhat  abashed,  followed  Mr.  Grey  son  into 
a  handsome  hall.  They  were  told  where  to  hang 
their  hats,  and  a  moment  afterwards  were  ushered 
into  a  comfortable  dining-room,  where  a  table  was 
spread  for  dinner.- 

Dick  took  his  seat  on  the  edge  of  a  sofa,  and  was 
tempted  to  rub  his  eyes  to  make  sure  that  he  was 
really  awake.  He  could  hardly  believe  that  he  was 
a  guest  in  so  fine  a  mansion. 

Ida  helped  to  put  the  boys  at  their  ease, 

"Do  you  like  pictures  ? "  she  asked. 

"Very  much,"  answered  Henry. 


188  BAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

The  little  girl  brought  a  book  of  handsome  engrav- 
ings, and,  seating  herself  beside  Dick,  to  whom  she 
seemed  to  have  taken  a  decided  fancy,  commenced 
showing  them  to  him. 

"  There  are  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt,"  she  said, 
pointing  to  one  engraving. 

"What  are  they  for?"  asked  Dick,  puzzled.  "I 
don't  see  any  winders." 

"  No,"  said  Ida,  "  I  don't  believe  anybody  lives 
there.     Do  they,  papa?  " 

"  No,  my  dear.  They  were  used  for  the  burial  of 
the  dead.  The  largest  of  them  is  said  to  be  the  lof- 
tiest building  in  the  world  with  one  exception.  The 
spire  of  the  Cathedral  of  Strasburg  is  twenty-four 
feet  higher,  if  I  remember  rightly." 

"  Is  Egypt  near  here? "  asked  Dick. 

"Oh,  no,  it's  ever  so  many  miles  off;  about  four 
or  five  hundred.     Didn't  you  know?" 

"  No,"  said  Dick.     "  I  never  heard." 

"  You  don't  appear  to  be  very  accurate  in  your 
information,  Ida,"  said  her  mother.  "  Four  or  five 
thousand  miles  would  be  considerably  nearer  the 
truth." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  189 

After  a  little  more  conversation  they  sat  down  to 
dinner.  Dick  seated  himself  in  an  embarrassed  way. 
He  was  very  much  afraid  of  doing  or  saying  some- 
thing which  would  be  considered  an  impropriety,  and 
had  the  uncomfortable  feeling  that  everybody  was 
looking  at  him,  and  watching  his  behavior. 

"Where  do  you  live,  Dick?"  asked  Ida,  famil- 
iarly. 

"  In  Mott  Street." 

"Where  is  that?" 

"  More  than  a  mile  off." 

"  Is  it  a  nice  street?  " 

"Not  very,"  said  Dick.  "Only  poor  folks  live 
there." 

"  Are  you  poor?" 

"  Little  girls  should  be  seen  and  not  heard,"  said 
her  mother,  gently. 

"  If  you  are,"  said  Ida,  "  I'll  give  you  the  five-dol- 
lar gold-piece  aunt  gave  me  for  a  birthday  present." 

"  Dick  cannot  be  called  poor,  my  child,"  said  Mrs. 
Greyson,  "  since  he  earns  his  living  by  his  own  ex- 
ertions." 

"Do  you  earn  your  living?"  asked  Ida,  who  was 


190  MAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

a  very  inquisitive  young  lady,  and  not  easily  silenced. 
"What  do  you  do?" 

Dick  blushed  violently.  At  such  a  table,  and'  in 
presence  of  the  servant  who  was  standing  at  that 
moment  behind  his  chair,  he  did  not  like  to  say  that 
he  was  a  shoe-black,  although  he  well  knew  that 
there  was  nothing  dishonorable  in  the  occupation. 

Mr.  Greyson  perceived  his  feelings,  and  to  spare 
them,  said,  "  You  are  too  inquisitive,  Ida.  Some 
time  Dick  may  tell  you,  but  you  know  we  don't  talk 
of  business  on  Sundays."  , 

Dick  in  his  embarrassment  had  swallowed  a  large 
spoonful  of  hot  soup,  which  made  him  turn  reel  in  the 
face.  For  the  second  time,  in  spite  of  the  prospect 
of  the  best  dinner  he  had  ever  eaten,  he  wished  him- 
self back  in  Mott  Street.  Henry  Fosdick  was  more 
easy  and  unembarrassed  than  Dick,  not  having  led 
such  a  vagabond  and  neglected  life.  But  it  was  to 
Dick  that  Ida  chiefly  directed  her  conversation,  hav- 
ing apparently  taken  a  fancy  to  his  frank  and  hand- 
some face.  I  believe  I  have  already  said  that  Dick 
was  a  very  good-looking  boy,  especially  now  since  he 
kept  his   face  clean.     He  had   a  frank,  honest  ex 


STBEET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YOBK.  191 

pression,  which  generally  won  its  way  to  the  favor  of 
those  with  whom  he  came  in  contact. 

Dick  got  along  pretty  well  at  the  table  by  dint  of 
noticing  how  the  rest  acted,  but  there  was  one  thing 
he  could  not  manage,  eating  with  his  fork,  which,  by 
the  way,  he  thought  a  very  singular  arrangement. 

At  length  they  arose  from  the  table,  somewhat  to 
Dick's  relief.  Again  Ida  devoted  herself  to  the  boys, 
and  exhibited  a  profusely  illustrated  Bible  for  their 
entertainment.  Dick  was  interested  in  looking  at 
the  pictures,  though  he  knew  very  little  of  their 
subjects.  Henry  Fosdick  was  much  better  informed, 
as  might  have  been  expected. 

"When  the  boys  were  about  to  leave  the  house  with 
Mr.  Greyson  for  the  Sunday  school,  Ida  placed  her 
hand  in  Dick's,  and  said  persuasively.  "  You'll 
come  again,  Dick,  won't  you?" 

"Thank  you,"  said  Dick,  "I'd  like  to,"  and  he 
could  not  help  thinking  Ida  the  nicest  girl  he  had 
ever  seen. 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Greyson,  hospitably,  "we  shall 
be  glad  to  see  you  both  here  again." 


192  RAGGED  DICK;    OR., 

"Thank  you  very  much,"  said  Henry  Fosdick, 
gratefully.     "  We  shall  like  very  much  to  come." 

I  will  not  dwell  upon  the  hour  spent  in  Sunday 
school,  nor  upon  the  remarks  of  Mr.  Grey  son  to  his 
class.  He  found  Dick's  ignorance  of  religious 
subjects  so  great  that  he  was  obliged  to  begin  at  the 
beginning  with  him.  Dick  was  interested  in  hearing 
the  children  sing,  and  readily  promised  to  come 
again  the  next  Sunday. 

When  the  service  was  over  Dick  and  Henry  walked 
homewards.  Dick  could  not  help  letting  his  thoughts 
rest  on  the  sweet  little  girl  who  had  given  him  so 
cordial  a  welcome,  and  hoping  that  he  might  meet 
her  again. 

"Mr.  Greyson  is  a  nice  man,  —  isn't  he,  Dick?" 
asked  Henry,'  as  they  were  turning  into  Mott  Street, 
and  were  already  in  sight  of  their  lodging-house. 

"  Aint  he,  though?"  said  Dick.  "He  treated  us 
just  as  if  we  were  young  gentlemen." 

"  Ida  seemed  to  take  a  great  fancy  to  you." 

"  She's  a  tip-top  girl,"  said  Dick,  "  but  she  asked 
so  many  questions  that  I  didn't  know  what  to  say." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  133 

He  had  scarcely  finished  speaking,  when  a  stone 

whizzed  by  his  head,  and,  turning  quickly,  he  saw 

Micky  Maguire  running  round  the  corner  of  the  street 

which  they  had  just  passed. 
13 


104  BAGGED  DICK,'   Ofy 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

MICKY  MAGUIRE'S   SECOND   DEFEAT. 

Dick  was  no  coward.  Nor  was  he  in  the  habit  of 
submitting  passively  to  an  insult.  "When,  therefore, 
he  recognized  Micky  Maguire  as  his  assailant,  he  in- 
stantly turned  and  gave  chase.  Micky  anticipated 
pursuit,  and  ran  at  his  utmost  speed.  It  is  doubtful 
if  Dick  would  have  overtaken  him,  but  Micky  had 
the  ill  luck  to  trip  just  as  he  had  entered  a  narrow 
alley,  and,  falling  with  some  violence,  received  a 
sharp  blow  from  the  hard  stones,  which  made  him 
scream  with  pain. 

"  Ow ! "  he  whined.  "  Don't  you  hit  a  feller  when 
he's  down." 

"What  made  you  fire  that  stone  at  me?"  de- 
manded our  hero,  looking  down  at  the  fallen  bully. 

"  Just  for  fun,"  said  Micky. 

"  It  would  have  been  a  very  agreeable  s'prise  if 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  195 

it  had  hit  me,"  said  Dick.  "  S'posin'  I  fire  a  rock  at 
you  jest  for  fun." 

"  Don't !  "  exclaimed  Micky,  in  alarm. 

"  It  seems  you  don't  like  agreeable  s'prises,"  sjiid 
Dick,  "  any  more'n  the  man  did  what  got  hooked  by 
a  cow  one  mornin,  before  breakfast.  It  didn't  im- 
prove his  appetite  much." 

"  I've  most  broke  my  arm,"  said  Micky,  ruefully, 
rubbing  the  affected-  limb. 

"If  it's  broke  you  can't  fire  no  more  stones, 
which  is  a  very  cheerin'  reflection,"  said  Dick.'  "  Ef 
you  haven't  money  enough  to  buy  a  wooden  one  I'll 
lend  you  a  quarter.  There's  one  good  thing  about 
wooden  ones,  they  aint  liable  to  get  cold  in  winter, 
which  is  another  cheerin'  reflection." 

"  I  don't  want  none  of  yer  cheerin'  reflections," 
said  Micky,  sullenly.  "  Yer  company  aint  wanted 
here." 

"  Thank  you  for  your  polite  invitation  to  leave," 
said  Dick,  bowing  ceremoniously.  "  I'm  willin'  to  go, 
but  ef  you  throw  any  more  stones  at  me,  Micky  Ma- 
guire,  I'll  hurt  you  worse  than  the  stones  did. 

The  only  answer  made  to  this  warning  was  a  scowl 


196  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

from  his  fallen  opponent.  It  was  quite  evident  that 
Dick  had  the  best  of  it,  and  he  thought  it  prudent  to 
say  nothing. 

"  As  I've  got  a  friend  waitin'  outside,  I  shall  have 
to  tear  myself  away,"  said  Dick.  "  You'd  better  not 
throw  any  more  stones,  Micky  Maguire,  for  it  don't 
seem  to  agree  with  your  constitution." 

Micky  muttered  something  which  Dick  did  not 
stay  to  hear.  He  backed  out  of  the  alley,  keeping  a 
watchful  eye  on  his  fallen  foe,  and  rejoined  Henry 
Fosdick,  who  was  awaiting  his  return. 

"  Who  was  it,  Dick?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  partic'lar  friend  of  mine,  Micky  Maguire,"  said 
Dick.  "  He  playfully  fired  a  rock  at  my  head  as  a 
mark  of  his  'fection.  He  loves  me  like  a  brother, 
Micky  does." 

"  Eather  a  dangerous  kind  of  a  friend,  I  should 
think,"  said  Fosdick.     "  He  might  have  killed  you." 

"  I've  warned  him  not  to  be  so  'fectionate  another 
time,"  said  Dick. 

"  I  know  him,"  said  Henry  Fosdick.  "  He's  at  the 
head  of  a  gang  of  boys  living  at  the  Five-Points. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  197 

He  threatened  to  whip  me  once  because  a  gentleman 
employed  me  to  black  his  boots  instead  of  him." 

"  He's  been  at  the  Island  two  or  three  times  for 
stealing,"  said  Dick.  "I  guess  he  won't  touch  me 
again.  He'd  rather  get  hold  of  small  boys.  If  he 
ever  does  anything  to  you,  Fosdick,  just  let  me  know, 
and  I'll  give  him  a  thrashing." 

Dick  was  right.  Micky  Maguire  was  a  bully,  and 
like  most  bullies  did  not  fancy  tackling  boys  whose 
strength  was  equal  or  superior  to  his  own.  Although 
he  hated  Dick  more  than  ever,  because  he  thought 
our  hero  was  putting  on  airs,  he  had  too  lively  a  re- 
membrance of  his  strength  and  courage  to  venture 
upon  another  open  attack.  He  contented  himself, 
therefore,  whenever  he  met  Dick,  with  scowling  at 
him.  Dick  took  this  very  philosophically,  remarking 
that,  "  if  it  was  soothin'  to  Micky's  feelings,  he  might 
go  ahead,  as  it  didn't  hurt  him  much." 

It  will  not  be  necessary  to  chronicle  the  events  of 
the  next  few  weeks.  A  new  life  had  commenced 
for  Dick.  He  no  longer  haunted  the  gallery  of  the 
Old  Bowery ;  and  even  Tony  Pastor's  hospitable 
doors  had  lost  their  old  attractions.     He  spent  two 


198  BAGGED  DICK;    OB, 

hours  every  evening  in  study.  His  progress  was 
astonishingly  rapid.  He  was  gifted  with  a  natural 
quickness ;  and  he  was  stimulated  by  the  desire  to 
acquire  a  fair  education  as  a  means  of  "  growin' 
up  'spectable,"  as  he  termed  it.  Much  was  due .  also 
to  the  patience  and  perseverance  of  Henry  Fosdick, 
who  made  a  capital  teacher. 

"  You're  improving  wonderfully,  Dick,"  said  his 
friend,  one  evening,  when  Dick  had  read  an  entire 
paragraph  without  a  mistake. 

"Am  I?"  said  Dick,  with  satisfaction. 

"  Yes.  If  you'll  buy  a  writing-book  to-morrow, 
we  can  begin  writing  to-morrow  evening." 

""What  else  do  you  know,  Henry?"  asked  Dick. 

"  Arithmetic,  and  geography,  and  grammar." 

"  What  a  lot  you  know ! "  said  Dick,  admiringly. 

"  I  don't  Jcnoio  any  of  them,"  said  Fosdick.  "I've 
only  studied  them.  1  wish  I  knew  a  great  deal 
more." 

"  I'll  be  satisfied  when  I  know  as  much  as  you," 
said  Dick. 

"  It  seems  a  great  deal  to  you  now,  Dick,  but  in  a 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  199 

few  months  you'll  think  differently.  The  more  you 
know,  the  more  you'll  want  to  know." 

"  Then  there  aint  any  end  to  learnin'  ? "  said  Dick. 

"  No." 

"  Well,"  said  Dick,  "  I  guess  I'll  be  as  much  as 
sixty  before  I  know  everything." 

"Yes;  as  old  as  that,  probably,"  said  Fosdick, 
laughing. 

"Anyway,  you  know  too  much  to  be  blackin' 
boots.     Leave  that  to  ignorant  chaps  like  me." 

"You  won't  be  ignorant  long,  Dick." 

"  You'd  ought  to  get  into  some  office  or  countin'- 
room." 

"  I  wish  I  could,"  said  Fosdick,  earnestly.  "  I 
don't  succeed  very  well  at  blacking  boots.  You 
make  a  great  deal  more  than  I  do." 

"That's  cause  I  aint  troubled  with  bashfulness," 
said  Dick.  "  Bashfulness  aint  as  natural  to  me  as  it 
is  to  you.  I'm  always  on  hand,  as  the  cat  said  to 
the  milk.  You'd  better  give  up  shines,  Fosdick,  and 
give  your  'tention  to  mercantile  pursuits." 

"I've  thought  of  trying  to  get  a  place,"  said 
Fosdick;  "but  no  one   would   take  me   with  these 


200  RAGGED  DICK;   OR, 

clothes ; "  and  he  directed  his  glance  to  his  well- 
worn  suit,  which  he  kept  as  neat  as  he  could,  but 
which,  in  spite  of  all  his  care,  began  to  show  decided 
marks  of  use.  There  was  also  here  and  there  a  stain 
of  blacking  upon  it,  which,  though  an  advertisement 
of  his  profession,  scarcely  added  to  its  good  appear- 
ance. 

"  I  almost  wanted  to  stay  at  home  from  Sunday 
school  last  Sunday,"  he  continued,  "  because  I 
thought  everybody  would  notice  how  dirty  and  worn 
my  clothes  had  got  to  be." 

"  If  my  clothes  wasn't  two  sizes  too  big  for  you," 
said  Dick,  generously,  "I'd  change.  You'd  look  as 
if  you'd  got  into  your  great-uncle's  suit  by  mistake." 

"  You're  very  kind,  Dick,  to  think  of  changing," 
said  Fosdick,  "  for  your  suit  is  much  better  than 
mine ;  but  I  don't  think  that  mine  would  suit  you 
very  well.  The  pants  would  show  a  little  more  of 
your  ankles  than  is  the  fashion,  and  you  couldn't 
eat  a  very  hearty  dinner  without  bursting  the  but- 
tons off  the  vest." 

"  That  wouldn't  be  very  convenient,"  said  Dick. 
"I   aint  fond  of  lacin'   to  show  my  elegant  figger, 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  201 

But  I  say,"  he  added  with  a  sudden  thought,  "  how 
much  money  have   we   got  in  the   savings'  bank  ? " 

Fosdick  took  a  key  from  his  pocket,  and  went  to 
the  drawer  in  which  the  bank-books  were  kept,  and, 
opening  it,  brought  them  out  for  inspection. 

It  was  found  that  Dick  had  the  sum  of  eighteen 
dollars  and  ninety  cents  placed  to  his  credit,  while 
Fosdick  had  six  dollars  and  forty-five  cents.  To 
explain  the  large  difference,  it  must  be  remembered 
that  Dick  had  deposited  five  dollars  before  Henry 
deposited  anything,  being  the  amount  he  had  re- 
ceived as  a  gift  from  Mr.  Whitney. 

"  How  much  does  that  make,  the  lot  of  it?"  asked 
Dick.     "  I  aint  much  on  figgers  yet,  you  know." 

"It  makes  twenty-five  dollars  and  thirty-five  cents, 
Dick,"  said  his  companion,  who  did  not  understand 
the  thought  which  suggested  the  question.   . 

"  Take  it,  and  buy  some  clothes,  Henry,"  said 

Dick,  shortly. 

» 
"What,  your  money  too?" 

"In  course." 

"  No,  Dick ;    you   are   too  generous.     I   couldn't 


202  ragged  dick;  o/z, 

think  of  it.  Almost  three-quarters  of  the  money  is 
yours.     You  must  spend  it  on  yourself." 

"  I  don't  need  it,"  said  Dick. 

"You  may  not  need  it  now,  but  you  will  some 
time." 

UI  shall  have  some  more  then." 

"  That  may  he ;  but  it  wouldn't  be  fair  for  me  to 
use  your  money,  Dick.  I  thank  you  all  the  same  for 
your  kindness." 

"Well,  I'll  lend  it  to  you,  then,"  persisted  Dick, 
"  and  you  can  pay  me  when  you  get  to  be  a  rich 
merchant." 

"But  it  isn't  likely  I  ever  shall  be  one." 

"How  d'you  know?  I  went  to  a  fortun' teller 
once,  and  she  told  me  I  was  born  under  a  lucky 
star  with  a  hard  name,  and  I  should  have  a  rich  man 
for  my  particular  friend,  who  would  make  my  fortun'. 
I  guess  you  are  going  to  be  the  rich  man." 

Fosdick  laughed,  and  steadily  refused  for  some 
time  to  avail  himself  of  Dick's  generous  proposal ; 
but  at  length,  perceiving  that  our  hero  seemed  much 
disappointed,  and  would  be  really  glad  if  his  offer 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  203 

were  accepted,  he  agreed  to  use  as  much  as  might  be 
needful. 

This  at  once  brought  back  Dick's  good-humor,  and 
he  entered  with  great  enthusiasm  into  his  friend's 
plans. 

The  next  day  they  withdrew  the  money  from  the 
bank,  and,  when  business  got  a  little  slack,  in  the 
afternoon,  set  out  in  search  of  a  clothing  store. 
Dick  knew  enough  of  the  city  to  be  able  to  find  a 
place  where  a  good  bargain  could  be  obtained.  He 
was  determined  that  Fosdick  should  have  a  good 
serviceable  suit,  even  if  it  took  all  the  money  they 
had.  The  result  of  their  search  was  that  for  twenty- 
three  dollars  Fosdick  obtained  a  very  neat  outfit, 
including  a  couple  of  shirts,  a  hat,  and  a  pair  of 
shoes,  besides  a  dark  mixed  suit,  which  appeared 
stout  and  of  good  quality. 

"Shall  I  send  the  bundle  home?  "  asked  the  sales- 
man, impressed  by  the  off-hand  manner  in  which 
Dick  drew  out  the  money  in  payment  for  the 
clothes. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dick,  "you're  very  kind,  but 


204  bagged  dick;  on, 

I'll  take  it  home  myself,  and  you  can  allow  me  some- 
thing for  my  trouble." 

"  All  right,"  said  the  clerk,  laughing ;  "  I'll  allow 
it  on  your  next  purchase." 

Proceeding  to  their  apartment  in  Mott  Street,  Fos- 
dick  at  once  tried  on  his  new  suit,  and  it  was  found 
to  be  an  excellent  fit.  Dick  surveyed  his  new  friend 
with  much  satisfaction. 

"  You  look  like  a  young  gentleman  of  fortun',"  he 
said,  "  and  do  credit  to  your  governor." 

"  I  suppose  that  means  you,  Dick,"  said  Fosdick, 
laughing. 

"In  course  it  does." 

"  You  should  say  of  course,"  said  Fosdick,  who, 
in  virtue  of  his  position  as  Dick's  tutor,  ventured  to 
correct  his  language  from  time  to  time. 

"How  dare  you  correct  your  gov'nor?"  said 
Dick,  with  comic  indignation.  "Til  cut  you  off 
with  a  shillin',  you  young  dog,'  as  the  Markis  says 
to  his  nephew  in  the  play  at  the  Old  Bowery." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  205 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FOSDICK  CHANGES   HIS  BUSINESS. 

Fosdick  did  not  venture  to  wear  his  new  clothes 
while  engaged  in  his  business.  This  he  felt  would 
have  been  wasteful  extravagance.  About  ten  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  when  business  slackened,  he  went 
home,  and  dressing  himself  went  to  a  hotel  where  he 
could  see  copies  of  the  "Morning  Herald"  and 
"  Sun,"  and,  noting  down  the  places  where  a  boy  was 
wanted,  went  on  a  round  of  applications.  But  he 
found  it  no  easy  thing  to  obtain  a  place.  Swarms 
of  boys  seemed  to  be  out  of  employment,  and  it  was 
not  unusual  to  find  from  fifty  to  a  hundred  applicants 
for  a  single  place. 

There  was  another  difficulty.  It  was  generally 
desired  that  the  boy  wanted  should  reside  with  his 
parents.  When  Fosdick,  on  being  questioned,  re- 
vealed the  fact  of  his  having  no  parents,  and  being  a 
boy  of  the  street,  this  was  generally  sufficient  of  it- 


206  bagged  dick;  on, 

self  to  insure  a  refusal.  Merchants  were  afraid  to 
trust  one  who  had  led  such  a  vagabond  life.  Dick, 
who '  was  always  ready  for  an  emergency,  suggested 
borrowing  a  white  wig,  and  passing  himself  off  for 
Fosdick's  father  or  grandfather.  But  Henry  thought 
this  might  be  rather  a  difficult  character  for  our  hero 
to  sustain.  After  fifty  applications  and  as  many 
failures,  Fosdick  began  to  get  discouraged.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  way  out  of  his  present  business,  for 
which  he  felt  unfitted. 

"I  don't  know  but  I  shall  have  to  black  boots  all 
my  life,"  he  said,  one  day,  despondently,  to  Dick. 

"Keep  a  stiff  upper  lip,"  said  Dick.  "By  the 
time  you  get  to  be  a  gray-headed  veteran,  you  may 
get  a  chance  to  run  errands  for  some  big  firm  on  the 
Bowery,  which  is  a  very  cheerin'  reflection." 

So  Dick  by  his  drollery  and  perpetual  good  spirits 
kept  up  Fosdick's  courage. 

"  As  for  me,"  said  Dick,  "  I  expect  by  that  time  to 
lay  up  a  colossal  fortun'  out  of  shines,  and  live  in 
princely  stjde  on  the  Avenoo." 

But  one  morning,  Fosdick,  straying  into  French's 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  207 

Hotel,  discovered  the  following  advertisement  in  the 
columns  of  "  The  Herald,"  — 

"Wanted  —  A  smart,  capable  boy  to  run  of  er- 
rands, and  make  himself  generally  useful  in  a  hat  and 
cap  store.  Salary  three  dollars  a  week  at  first.  In- 
quire at  No.  —  Broadway,  after  ten  o'clock,  A.  M." 

He  determined  to  make  application,  and,  as  the  City 
Hall  clock  just  then  struck  the  hour  indicated,  lost 
no  time  in  proceeding  to  the  store,  which  was  only  a 
few  blocks  distant  from  the  Astor  House.  It  was 
easy  to  find  the  store,  as  from  a  dozen  to  twenty  boys 
were  already  assembled  in  front  of  it.  They  sur- 
veyed each  other  askance,  feeling  that  they  were 
rivals,  and  mentally  calculating  each  other's  chances. 

"  There  isn't  much  chance  for  me,"  said  Fosdick  to 
Dick,  who  had  accompanied  him.  "  Look  at  all 
these  boys.  Most  of  them  have  good  homes,  I  sup- 
pose, and  good  recommendations,  while  I  have,  no- 
body to  refer  to." 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Dick.  "  Your  chance  is  as  good 
as  an3rbody's=" 

While  this  was  passing  between  Dick  and  his  com- 
panion, one  of  the  boys,  a  rather  supercilious-looking 


208  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

young  gentleman,  genteelly  dressed,  and  evidently 
having  a  very  high  opinion  of  his  dress  and  himself, 
turned  suddenly  to  Dick,  and  remarked,  — 

"  I've  seen  you  before." 

"Oh,  have  you?"  said  Dick,  whirling  round; 
"  then  p'r'aps  you'd  like  to  see  me  behind." 

At  this  unexpected  answer  all  the  boys  burst  into 
a  laugh  with  the  exception  of  the  questioner,  who, 
evidently  considered  that  Dick  had  been  disrespect- 
ful. 

"  I've  seen  you  somewhere,"  he  said,  in  a  surly 
tone,  correcting  himself. 

"Most  likely  you  have,"  said  Dick.  "That's 
where  I  generally  keep  myself." 

There  was  another  laugh  at  the  expense  of  Eos- 
well  Crawford,  for  that  was  the  name  of  the  young 
aristocrat.  But  he  had  his  revenge  ready.  No  boy 
relishes  being  an  object  of  ridicule,  and  it  was  with  a 
feeling  of  satisfaction  that  he  retorted,  — 

"I  know  you  for  all  your  impudence.  You're 
nothing  but  a  boot-black." 

This  information  took  the  boys  who  were  standing 
around  by  surprise,  for  Dick  was  well-dressed,  and 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  209 

4 

had  none  of  the  implements  of  his  profession  with 
him. 

"  S'pose  I  he,"  said  Dick.  "  Have  you  got  any 
objection?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Roswell,  curling  his  lip  ;  "  only 
you'd  better  stick  to  blacking  boots,  and  not  try  to 
get  into  a  store." 

"Thank  you  for  your  kind  advice,"  said  Dick. 
"Is  it  gratooitous,  or  do  you  expect  to  be  paid 
for  it?" 

"  You're  an  impudent  fellow." 

"  That's  a  very  cheerin'  reflection,"  said  Dick, 
good-naturedly. 

"Do  you  expect  to  get  this  place  when  there's 
gentlemen's  sons  applying  for  it  ?  A  boot-black  in  a 
store !     That  would  be  a  good  joke." 

Boys  as  well  as  men  are  selfish,  and,  looking  upon 
Dick  as  a  possible  rival,  the  boys  who  listened  seemed 
disposed  to  take  the  same  view  of  the  situation. 

"  That's  what  I  say,"  said  one  of  them,  taking 
sides  with  Roswell. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourselves,"  said  Dick.  "  I  aint 
agoin'  to  cut  you  out.  I  can't  afford  to  give  up  a 
14 


210  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

independent  and  loocrative  purfession  for  a  salary  of 
three  dollars  a  week." 

"  Hear  him  talk !  "  said  Roswell  Crawford,  with  an 
unpleasant  sneer.  "  If  you  are  not  trying  to  get  the 
place,  what  are  you  here  for?  " 

"  I  came  with  a  friend  of  mine,"  said  Dick,  indi- 
cating Fosdick,  "  who's  goin'  in  for  the  situation." 

"Is  he  a  boot-black,  too?"  demanded  Roswell, 
superciliously. 

"  He !  "  retorted  Dick,  loftily.  "  Didn't  you  know 
his  father  was  a  member  of  Congress,  and  inti- 
mately acquainted  with  all  the  biggest  men  in  the 
State?" 

The  boys  surveyed  Fosdick  as  if  they  did  not  quite 
know  whether  to  credit  this  statement,  which,  for  the 
credit  of  Dick's  veracity,  it  will  be  observed  he  did 
not  assert,  but  only  propounded  in  the  form  of  a 
question.  There  was  no  time  for  comment,  however, 
as  just  then  the  proprietor  of  the  store  came  to  the 
door,  and,  casting  his  eyes  over  the  waiting  group, 
singled  out  Eoswell  Crawford,  and  asked  him  to 
enter. 

"  Well,  my  lad,  how  old  are  you?  " 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  211 

"  Fourteen  years  old,"  said  Roswell,  consequen- 
tially. 

"  Are  your  parents  living?  " 

"  Only  rny  mother.  My  father  is  dead.  He  was  a 
gentleman,"  he  added,  complacently. 

"  Oh,  was  he?"  said  the  shop-keeper.  "Do  you 
live  in  the  city?" 

"  Yes,  sir.    In  Clinton  Place." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  a  situation  before?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Roswell,  a  little  reluctantly. 

"Where  was  it?" 

"  In  an  office  on  Dey  Street." 

"  How  long  were  you  there?  " 

"  A  week." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  was  a  short  time.  "Why  did 
you  not  stay  longer  ?  " 

"  Because,"  said  Roswell,  loftily,  "  the  man  wanted 
me  to  get  to  the  office  at  eight  o'clock,  and  make  the 
fire.  I'm  a  gentleman's  son,  and  am  not  Used  to  such 
dirty  work." 

"  Indeed ! "  said  the  shop-keeper.  "  Well,  young 
gentleman,  you  may  step   aside  a  few  minutes.     I 


212  RAGGED  DICK;   OB, 

•will  speak  with  some  of  the  other  boys  before  making 
my  selection." 

Several  other  boys  were  called  in  and  questioned. 
Roswell  stood  by  and  listened  with  an  air  of  com- 
placency. He  could  not  help  thinking  his  chances 
the  best.  "  The  man  can  see  I'm  a  gentleman,  and 
will  do  credit  to  his  store,"  he  thought. 

At  length  it  came  to  Fosdick's  turn.  He  entered 
with  no  very  sanguine  anticipations  of  success.  Un- 
like Roswell,  he  set  a  very  low  estimate  upon  his 
qualifications  when  compared  with  those  of  other 
applicants.  But  his  modest  bearing,  and  quiet, 
gentlemanly  manner,  entirely  free  from  pretension, 
prepossessed  the  shop-keeper,  who  was  a  sensible 
man,  in  his  favor. 

"  Do  you  reside  in  the  city?"  he  asked. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Henry. 

"  What  is  your  age  ?  " 

"  Twelve." 

"  Have  you  ever  been  in  any  situation?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  a  specimen  of  your  hand 
writing.     Here,  take  the  pen  and  write  your  name." 


STBEET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YOUR.  213 

Henry  Fosdick  had  a  very  handsome  handwriting 
for  a  hoy  of  his  age,  while  Roswell,  who  had  sub- 
mitted to  the  same  test,  could  do  little  more  than 
scrawl. 

"  Do  you  reside  with  your  parents?  " 

"  No,  sir,  they  are  dead." 

"Where  do  you  live,  then?" 

"  In  Mott  Street." 

Roswell  curled  his  lip  when  this  name  was  pro- 
nounced, for  Mott  Street,  as  my  New  York  readers 
know,  is  in  the  immediate  neighborhood  of  the  Five- 
Points,  and  very  far  from  a  fashionable  locality. 

"Have  you  any  testimonials  to  present?"  asked 
Mr.  Henderson,  for  that  was  his  name. 

Fosdick  hesitated.  This  was  the  question  which 
he  had  foreseen  would  give  him  trouble 

But  at  this  moment  it  happened  most  opportunely 
that  Mr.  G-reyson  entered  the  shop  with  the  intention 
of  buying  a  hat. 

"  Yes,"  said  Fosdick,  promptly ;  "  I  will  refer  to 
this  gentleman." 

"  How  do  you  do,  Fosdick?"  asked  Mr.  Greyson, 


214  RAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

noticing  him  for  the  first  time.     "  How  do  you  happen 
to  be  here  ?  " 

"I  am  applying  for  a  place,  sir,"  said  Fosdick. 
"May  I  refer  the  gentleman  to  you?" 

"  Certainly,  I  shall  be  glad  to  speak  a  good  word 
for  you.  Mr.  Henderson,  this  is  a  member  of  my' 
Sunday-school  class,  of  whose  good  qualities  and 
good  abilities  I  can  speak  confidently." 

"  That  will  be  sufficient,"  said  the  shop-keeper, 
who  knew  Mr.  Greyson's  high  character  and  position. 
"  Hp  could  have  no  better  recommendation.  You 
may  come  to  the  store  to-morrow  morning  at  half 
past  seven  o'clock.  The  pay  will  be  three  dollars  a, 
week  for  the  first  six  months.  If  I  am  satisfied  with 
you,  I  shall  then  raise  it  to  five  dollars." 

The  other  boys  looked  disappointed,  but  none  more 
so  than  Roswell  Crawford.  He  would  have  cared 
less  if  any  one  else  had  obtained  the  situation ;  but  for 
a  boy  who  lived  in  Mott  Street  to  be  preferred  to  him, 
a  gentleman's  son,  he  considered  indeed  humiliating. 
In  a  spirit  of  petty  spite,  he  was  tempted  to  say, 
M  He's  a  boot-black.     Ask  him  if  he  isn't." 

'  He's   an  honest  and   intelligent  lad,"  said  Mr. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  215 

Greyson.  "  As  for  you,  young  man,  I  only  hope  you 
have  one-half  his  good  qualities." 

Roswell  Crawford  left  the  store  in  disgust,  and  the 
other  unsuccessful  applicants  with  him. 

"What  luck,  Fosclick?"  asked  Dick,  eagerly,  as 
his  friend  dame  out  of  the  store. 

"  I've  got  the  place,"  said  Fosdick,  in  accents  of 
satisfaction  ;  "  but  it  was  only  because  Mr.  Greyson 
spoke  up  for  me." 

"  He's  a  trump,"  said  Dick,  enthusiastically. 

The  gentleman,  so  denominated,  came  out  before 
the  boys  went  away,  and  spoke  with  them  kindly. 

Both  Dick  and  Henry  were  highly  pleased  at  the 
success  of  the  application.  The  pay  would  indeed 
be  small,  but,  expended  economically,  Fosclick 
thought  he  could  get  along  on  it,  receiving  his  room- 
rent,  as  before,  in  return  for  his  services  as  Dick's 
private  tutor.  Dick  determined,  as  soon  as  his 
education  would  permit,  to  follow  his  companion's 
example. 

"  I  don't  know  as  you'll  be  willin'  to  room  with  a 
boot-black,"  he  said,  to  Henry,  "now  you're  goin' 
into  business." 


216  BAGGED  DICK;   OB, 

"  I  couldn't  room  with  a  better  friend,  Dick,"  said 
Fosdick,  affectionately,  throwing  his  arm  round  our 
hero.     "  When  we  part,  it'll  be  because  you  wish  it." 

So  Fosdick  entered  upon  a  new  career. 


STREET  LIFE  IK  NEW  YORK.  217 


CHAPTER  XX. 


NINE   MONTHS   LATER. 


The  nest  morning  Fosclick  rose  early,  put  on  hi  8 
new  suit,  and,  after  getting  breakfast,  set  out  for  the 
Broadway  store  in  which  he  had  obtained  a  position. 
He  left  his  little  blacking-box  in  the  room. 

"  It'll  do  to  brush  my  own  shoes,"  he  said.  "  Who 
knows  but  I  may  have  to  come  back  to  it  again  ?  " 

"  No  danger,"  said  Dick ;  "  I'll  take  care  of  the 
feet,  and  you'll  have  to  look  after  the  heads,  now 
you're  in  a  hat-store." 

"  I  wish  you  had  a  place  too,"  said  Fosdick. 

"  I  don't  know  enough  yet,"  said  Dick.  "  Wait 
till  I've  gradooated." 

"  And  can  put  A.  B.  after  your  name." 

"What's  that?" 

"It  stands  for  Bachelor  of  Arts.  It's  a  degree 
that  students  get  when  they  graduate  from  college." 

"  Oh,"  said  Dick,  "  I  didn't  know  but  it  meant  A 


218  RAGGED   DICK;    OR, 

Boot-black.  I  can  put  that  after  my  name  now. 
Wouldn't  Dick  Hunter,  A.  B.,  sound  tip-top?  " 

"  I  must  be  going,"  said  Fosclick.  "  It  won't  do 
for  me  to  be  late  the  very  first  morning." 

"  That's  the  difference  between  you  and  me,"  said 
Dick.  "  I'm  my  own  boss,  and  there  aint  no  one  to 
find  fault  with  me  if  I'm  late.  But  I  might  as  well 
be  goin'  too.  There's  a  gent  as  comes  down  to  his 
store  pretty  early  that  generally  wants  a  shine." 

The  two  boys  parted  at  the  Park.  Fosdick  crossed 
it,  and  proceeded  to  the  hat-store,  while  Dick,  hitching 
up  his  pants,  began  to  look  about  him  for  a  customer. 
It  was  seldom  that  Dick  had  to  wait  long.  He  was 
always  on  the  alert,  and  if  there  was  any  business  to 
do  he  was  always  sure  to  get  his  share  of  it.  He  had 
now  a  stronger  inducement  than  ever  to  attend 
strictly  to  business  ;  his  little  stock  of  money  in  the 
savings  bank  having  been  nearly  exhausted  by  his  liber- 
ality to  his  room-mate.  He  determined  to  be  as  eco- 
nomical as  possible,  and  moreover  to  study  as  hard 
as  he  could,  that  he  might  be  able  to  follow  Fosdick' s 
example,  and  obtain  a  place  in  a  store  or  counting- 
room.     As  there  were  no  striking  incidents  occurring 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW  YORK.  219 

in  our  hero's  history  within  the  next  nine  months,  I 
propose  to  pass  over  that  period,  and  recount  the 
progress  he  made  in  that  time. 

Fosdick  was  still  at  the  hat-store,  having  succeed- 
ed in  giving  perfect  satisfaction  to  Mr.  Henderson. 
His  wages  had  just  been  raised  to  five  dollars  a  week. 
He  and  Dick  still  kept  house  together  at  Mrs.  Moon- 
ey's  lodging-house,  and  lived  very  frugally,  so  that 
both  were  able  to  save  up  money.  Dick  had  been 
unusually  successful  in  business.  He  had .  several 
regular  patrons,  who  had  been  drawn  to  him  by  his 
ready  wit,  and  quick  humor,  and  from  two  of  them 
he  had  received  presents  of  clothing,  which  had  saved 
him  any  expense  on  that  score.  His  income  had 
averaged  quite  seven  dollars  a  week  in  addition  to 
this.  Of  this  amount  he  was  now  obliged  to  pay  one 
dollar  weekly  for  the  room  which  he  and  Fosdick 
occupied,  but  he  was  still  able  to  save  one  half  the 
remainder.  At  the  end  of  nine  months  therefore,  or 
thirty-nine  weeks,  it  will  be  seen  that  he  had  ac- 
cumulated no  less  a  sum  than  one  hundred  and 
seventeen  dollars.  Dick  may  be  excused  for  feeling 
like  a  capitalist  when  he  looked  at  the  long  row  of 


220  BAGGED  DICK;   OB, 

deposits  in  his  little  bank-book.  There  were  othei 
boys  in  the  same  business  who  had  earned  as  much 
money,  but  they  had  had  little  care  for  the  future, 
and  spent  as  they  went  along,  so  that  few  could 
boast   a  bank-account,  however   small. 

"You'll  be  a  rich  man  some  time,  Dick,"  said 
Henry  Fosdick,  one  evening. 

"  And  live  on  Fifth  Avenoo,"  said  Dick. 
"  Perhaps  so.  Stranger  things  have  happened." 
"Well,"  said  Dick,  "if  such  a  misfortin'  should 
come  upon  me  I  should  bear  it  like  a  man.  When 
you  see  a  Fifth  Avenoo  manshun  for  sale  for  a 
hundred  and  seventeen  dollars,  just  let  me  know  and 
I'll  buy  it  as  an  investment." 

"  Two  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  you  might  have 
bought  one  for  that  price,  probably.  Eeal  estate 
wasn't  very  high  among  the  Indians." 

"  Just  my  luck,"  said  Dick ;  "  I  was  born  too  late. 
I'd  orter  have  been  an  Indian,  and  lived  in  splendor 
on   my   present   capital." 

"  I'm  afraid  you'd  have  found  your  present  business 
rather  unprofitable  at  that  time." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  221 

But  Dick  had  gained  something  more  valuable  than 
money.  He  had  studied  regularly  every  evening,  and 
his  improvement  had  been  marvellous.  He  could 
now  read  well,  write  a  fair  hand,  and  had  studied 
arithmetic  as  far  as  Interest.  Besides  this  he  had 
obtained  some  knowledge  of  grammar  and  geography. 
If  some  of  my  boy  readers,  who  have  been  studying 
for  years,  and  got  no  farther  than  this,  should  think 
it  incredible  that  Dick,  in  less  than  a  year,  and 
studying  evenings  only,  should  have  accomplished  it, 
they  must  remember  that  our  hero  was  very  much  in 
earnest  in  his  desire  to  improve.  He  knew  that,  in 
order  to  grow  up  respectable,  he  must  be  well  ad- 
vanced,  and  he  was  willing  to  work.  But  then  the 
reader  must  not  forget  that  Dick  was  naturally  a 
smart  boy.  His  street  education  had  sharpened  his 
faculties,  and  taught  him  to  rely  upon  himself.  He 
knew  that  it  would  take  him  a  long  time  to  reach  the 
goal  which  he  had  set  before  him,  and  he  had  patience 
to  keep  on  trying.  He  knew  that  he  had  only  him- 
self to  depend  upon,  and  he  determined  to  make  the 
most  of  himself, —  a  resolution  which  is  the  secret  of 
success  i*»  nine  cases  out  often. 


222  ragged  dick;  OB, 

"  Dick,"  said  Fosdick,  one  evening,  after  they  had 
completed  their  studies,  "I  think  you'll  have  to  get 
another  teacher  soon." 

"Why?"  asked  Dick,  in  some  surprise.  "Have 
you  been  offered  a  more  loocrative  position  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Fosdick,  "but  I  find  I  have  taught  you 
all  I  know  myself.  You  are  now  as  good  a  scholar 
as  I  am." 

"Is  that  true?"  said  Dick,  eagerly,  a  flush  of 
gratification  coloring  his  brown  cheek. 

"  Yes,"  said  Fosdick.  "  You've  made  wonderful 
progress.  I  propose,  now  that  evening  schools  have 
begun,  that  we  join  one,  and  study  together  through 
the  winter." 

"  All  right,"  said  Dick.  "  I'd  be  willin'  to  go  now  ; 
but  when  I  first  began  to  study  I  was  ashamed  to 
have  anybody  know  that  I  was  so  ignorant.  Do  you 
really  mean,  Fosdick,  that  I  know  as  much  as  you?  " 

"  Yes,  Dick,  it's  true." 

"  Then  I've  got  you  to  thank  for  it,"  said  Dick, 
earnestly.     "  You've  made  me  what  I  am." 

"  And  haven't  you  paid  me,  Dick?" 

"  By  payin'  the  room-rent,"  said  Dick,  impulsively. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  223 

"  What's  that?  It  isn't  half  enough.  I  wish  you'd 
take  half  my  money  ;  you  deserve  it." 

"  Thank  you,  Dick,  but  you're  too  generous. 
You've  more  than  paid  me.  Who  was  it  took  my 
part  when  all  the  other  boys  imposed  upon  me  ?  And 
who  gave  me  money  to  buy  clothes,  and  so  got  me  my 
situation  ?  " 

"  Oh,  that's  nothing ! "  said  Dick. 

"  It's  a  great  deal,  Dick.  I  shall  never  forget  it. 
But  now  it  seems  to  me  you  might  try  to  get  a 
situation  yourself." 

"  Do  I  know  enough?" 

"  You  know  as  much  as  I  do." 

"  Then  I'll  try,"  said  Dick,  decidedly. 

"  I  wish  there  was  a  place  in  our  store,"  said  Fos- 
sick.    "  It  would  be  pleasant  for  us  to  be  together." 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Dick  ;  "  there'll  be  plenty  of 
other  chances.  P'r'aps  A.  T.  Stewart  might  like  a 
partner.  I  wouldn't  ask  more'n  a  quarter  of  the 
profits." 

"  Which  would  be  a  very  liberal  proposal  on  your 
part,"  said   Fosdick,   smiling.       '  But  perhaps   Mr. 


224  bagged  dick;  OB, 

Stewart  might  object  to  a  partner  living  on  Mott 
Street." 

"  I'd  just  as  lieves  move  to  Fifth  Avenoo,"  said 
Dick.  "  I  aint  got  no  prejudices  in  favor  of  Mott 
Street." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Fosdick,  "  and  in  fact  I  have  been 
thinking  it  might  be  a  good  plan  for  us  to  move  as 
soon  as  we  could  afford.  Mrs.  Mooney  doesn't  keep 
the  room  quite  so  neat  as  she  might." 

"  No,"  said  Dick.  "  She  aint  got  no  prejudices 
against  dirt.     Look  at  that  towel." 

Dick  held  up  the  article  indicated,  which  had  now 
seen  service  nearly  a  week,  and  hard  service  at  that, 
—  Dick's  avocation  causing  him  to  be  rather  hard  on 
towels. 

"Yes,"  said  Fosdick,  "I've  got  about  tired  of 
it.  I  guess  we  can  find  some  better  place  without 
having  to  pay  much  more.  "When  we  move,  you 
must  let  me  pay  my  share  of  the  rent." 

"  We'll  see  about  that,"  said  Dick.  "  Do  you  pro- 
pose to  move  to  Fifth  Avenoo?" 

"  Not  just  at  present,  but  to  some  more  agreeable 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  225 

neighborhood  than  this.    "We'll  wait  till  you  get  a 
situation,  and  then  we  can  decide." 

A  few  days  later,  as  Dick  was  looking  about  fr>v 
customers  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  Park,  his  at- 
tention was  drawn  to  a  fellow  boot-black,  a  boy 
about  a  year  younger  than  himself,  who  appeared  to 
have  been  crying. 

"  What's *the  matter,  Tom?"  asked  Dick.  "  Haven't 
you  had  luck  to-day  ?  " 

"  Pretty  good,"  said  the  boy ;  "  but  we're  havin' 
hard  times  at  home.  Mother  fell  last  week  and 
broke  her  arm,  and  to-morrow  we've  got  to  pay  the 
rent,  and  if  we  don't  the  landlord  says  he'll  turn  us 
out." 

"Haven't  you  got  anything  except  what  you 
earn  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  No,"  said  Tom,  "  not  now.  Mother  used  to  earn 
three  or  four  dollars  a  week  ;  but  she  can't  do  nothin' 
now,  and  my  little  sister  and  brother  are  too  young." 

Dick  had  quick  sympathies.    He  had  been  so  poor 
himself,  and  obliged  to  submit  to  so  many  privations 
that  he  knew  from  personal  experience  how  hard  it 
was.      Tom  Wilkins  he  knew  as  an  excellent  boy 
15 


226  ragged  dick;  or, 

who  never  squandered  his  money,  but  faithfully  car- 
ried it  home  to  his  mother.  In  the  days  of  his  own 
extravagance  and  shiftlessness  he  had  once  or  twice 
asked  Tom  to  accompany  him  to  the  Old  Bowery 
or  Tony  Pastor's,  hut  Tom  had  always  steadily  re- 
fused. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Tom,"  he  said.  "  How  much 
do  you  owe  for  rent  ?  " 

"Two  weeks  now,"  said  Tom. 

"  How  much  is  it  a  week?" 

"  Two  dollars  a  week —  that  makes  four." 

"  Have  you  got  anything  towards  it?" 

"  No  ;  I've  had  to  spend  all  my  money  for  food  for 
mother  and  the  rest  of  us.  I've  had  pretty  hard 
work  to  do  that.  I  don't  know  what  we'll  do.  I 
haven't  any  place  to  go  to,  and  I'm  afraid  mother'll 
get  cold  in  her  arm." 

"  Can't  you  borrow  the  money  somewhere?"  asked 
Dick. 

Tom  shook  his  head  despondingly. 

"  All  the  people  I  know  are  as  poor  as  I  am,"  said 
he.  "They'd  help  me  if  they  could,  but  it's  hard 
work  for  them  to  get  along  themselves." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   TORE.  227 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,  Tom,"  said  Dick,  impulsively, 
"  I'll  stand  your  friend." 

"Have  you  got  any  money?"  asked  Tom,  doubt- 
fully. 

"  Got  any  money ! "  repeated  Dick.  "  Don't  you 
know  that  I  run  a  bank  on  my  own  account?  How 
much  is  it  you  need?" 

"  Four  dollars,"  said  Tom.  "  If  we  don't  pay  that 
before  to-morrow  night,  out  we  go.  You  haven't  got 
as  much  as  that,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Here  are  three  dollars,"  said  Dick,  drawing  out 
his  pocket-book.  "  I'll  let  you  have  the  rest  to-mor- 
row, and  maybe  a  little  more." 

"You're  a  right  down  good  fellow,  Dick,"  said 
Tom;   "but  won't  you  want  it  yourself?" 

"  Oh,  I've  got  some  more,"  said  Dick. 

"  Maybe  I'll  never  be  able  to  pay  you." 

"  'Spose  you  don't,"  said  Dick ;  "  I  guess  I  won't 
fail." 

"  I  won't  forget  it,  Dick.  I  hope  I'll  be  able  to  do 
somethin'  for  you  sometime." 

"  All  right,"  said  Dick.  "  I'd  ought  to  help  you. 
I  haven't  got  no  mother  to  look  out  for.  I  wish  I  had." 


228  ragged  dick;  OB, 

There  was  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  his  tone,  as  he 
pronounced  the  last  four  words  ;  but  Dick's  tempera- 
ment was  sanguine,  and  he  never  gave  way  to  una- 
vailing sadness.  Accordingly  he  began  to  whistle  as 
he  turned  away,  only  adding,  "  I'll  see  you  to-mor- 
row, Tom." 

The  three  dollars  which  Dick  had  handed  to  Tom 
Wilkins  were  his  savings  for  the  present  week.  It 
was  now  Thursday  afternoon.  His  i-ent,  which 
amounted  to  a  dollar,  he  expected  to  save  out  of  the 
earnings  of  Friday  and  Saturday.  In  order  to  give 
Tom  the  additional  assistance  he  had  promised,  Dick 
would  be  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  his  bank-sav- 
ings. He  would  not  have  ventured  to  trench  upon  it 
for  any. other  reason  but  this.  But  he  felt  that  it 
would  be  selfish  to  allow  Tom  and  his  mother  to  suf- 
fer when  he  had  it  in  his  power  to  relieve  them. 
But  Dick  was  destined  to  be  surprised,  and  that  in 
a  disagreeable  manner,  when  he  reached  home. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  229 


CHAPTER    XXI  . 

DICK  LOSES  HIS  BANK-BOOK. 

It  was  hinted  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter  that 
Dick  was  destined  to  be  disagreeably  surprised  on 
reaching  home. 

Having  agreed  to  give  further  assistance  to  Tom 
Wilkins,  he  was  naturally  led  to  go  to  the  drawer 
where  he  and  Fosdickkept  their  bank-books.  To  his 
surprise  and  uneasiness  the  drawer  proved  to  be  empty ! 

"Come  here  a  minute,  Fosclick,"  he  said. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Dick?  " 

"  I  can't  find  my  bank-book,  nor  yours  either. 
What's  'come  of  them  ?  " 

"  I  took  mine  with  me  this  morning,  thinking  I 
might  want  to  put  in  a  little  more  money.  I've  got 
it  in  my  pocket,  now." 

"  But  where's  mine?"  asked  Dick,  perplexed. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  saw  it  in  the  drawer  when  I 
took  mine  this  mornina:." 


230  bagged  dick;  on, 

"  Are  you  sure?" 

"  Yes,  positive,  for  I  looked  into  it  to  see  how 
much  you  had  got." 

"  Did  you  lock  it  again?"  asked  Dick. 

"  Yes  ;  didn't  you  have  to  unlock  it  just  now?" 

"So  I  did,"  said  Dick.  "But  it's  gone  now. 
Somebody  opened  it  with  a  key  that  fitted  the  lock, 
and  then  locked  it  ag'in." 

"  That  must  have  been  the  way." 

"  It's  rather  hard  on  a  feller,"  said  Dick,  who,  for 
the  first  time  since  we  became  acquainted  with  him, 
began  to  feel  down-hearted. 

"  Don't  give  it  up,  Dick.     You  haven't  lost  the 
money,  only  the  bank-book." 
|  "  Aint  that  the  same  thing?" 

"No.  You  can  goto  the  bank  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, as  soon  as  it  opens,  and  tell  them  you  have  lost 
the  book,  and  ask  them  not  to  pay  the  money  to  any 
one  except  yourself." 

"  So  I  can,"  said  Dick,  brightening  up.  "  That  is, 
if  the  thief  hasn't  been  to  the  bank  to-day." 

"  If  he  has,  they  might  detect  him  by  his  hand 
writing." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  231 

"I'd  like  to  get  hold  of  the  one  that  stole  it," 
said  Dick,  indignantly.  "  I'd  give  him  a  good 
lickin'." 

"  It  must  have  been  somebody  in  the  house.  Sup- 
pose we  go  and  see  Mrs.  Mooney.  She  may  know 
whether  anybody  came  into  our  room  to-day." 

The  two  boys  went  downstairs,  and  knocked  at 
the  door  of  a  little  back  sitting-room  where  Mrs. 
Mooney  generally  spent  her  evenings.  It  was  a 
shabby  little  room,  with  a  threadbare  carpet  on  the 
floor,  the  walls  covered  with  a  certain  large-fig- 
ured paper,  patches  of  which  had  been  stripped  off 
here  and  there,  exposing  the  plaster,  the  remain- 
der being  defaced  by  dirt  and  grease.  But  Mrs. 
Mooney  had  one  of  those  comfortable  temperaments 
which  are  tolerant  of  dirt,  and  didn't  mind  it  in 
the  least.  She  was  seated  beside  a  small  pine  work- 
table,  industriously  engaged  in  mending  stockings. 

"  Good-evening,  Mrs.  Mooney,"  said  Fosdick,  po- 
litely. 

"  Good-evening,"  said  the  landlady.  "  Sit  down, 
if  you  can  find  chairs.  I'm  hard  at  work  as  you  see, 
but  a  poor  lone  widder  can't  afford  to  be  idle." 


232  ragged  dick;  or, 

"  We  can't  stop  long,  Mrs.  Mooney,  but  my  friend 
here  has  had  something  taken  from  his  room  to-day, 
and  we  thought  we'd   come   and  see  you  about"1'  it." 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  landlady.  "You  don't 
think  I'd  take  anything  ?  If  I  am  poor,  it's  an  honest 
name  I've  always  had,  as  all  my  lodgers  can  testify." 

"  Certainly  not,  Mrs.  Mooney ;  but  there  are  others 
in  the  house  that  may  not  be  honest.  My  friend  has 
lost  his  bank-book.  It  was  safe  in  the  drawer  this 
morning,  but  to-night  it  is  not  to  be  found." 

"  How  much  money  was  there  in  it?"  asked  Mrs 
Mooney. 

"  Over  a  hundred  dollars,"  said  Fosdick. 
•  "It  was  my  whole  fortun',"    said  Dick.     "I  was 
goin'  to  buy  a  house  nest  year." 

Mrs.  Mooney  was  evidently  surprised  to  learn  the 
extent  of  Dick's  wealth,  and  was  disposed  to  regard 
him  with  increased  respect. 

"Was  the  drawer  locked?"  she  asked. 

"Yes." 

"  Then  it  couldn't  have  been  Bridget.  I  don't 
think  she  has  any  keys." 

"  She  wouldn't  know  what  a  bank-book  was,"  said 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW   YORK.  233 

Fosdick.  "  You  didn't  see  any  of  the  lodgers  go 
into  our  room  to-day,  did  you  ?  " 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  was  Jim  Travis,"  said 
Mrs.  Mooney,  suddenly. 

This  James  Travis  was  a  bar-tender  in  a  low  grog- 
gery  in  Mulberry  Street,  and  had  been  for  a  few 
weeks  an  inmate  of  Mrs.  Mooaey's  lodging-house. 
He  was  a  coarse-looking  fellow  who,  from  his  appear- 
ance, evidently  patronized  liberally  the  liquor  he 
dealt  out  to  others.  He  occupied  a  room  opposite 
Dick's,  and  was  often  heard  by  the  two  boys  reeling 
upstairs  in  a  state  of  intoxication,  uttering  shocking 
oaths. 

This  Travis  had  made  several  friendly  overtures 
to  Dick  and  his  room-mate,  and  had  invited  them  to 
call  round  at  the  bar-room  where  he  tended,  and 
take  something.  But  this  invitation  had  never  been 
accepted,  partly  because  the  boys  were  better  en- 
gaged in  the  evening,  and  partly  because  neither  of 
them  had  taken  a  fancy  to  Mr.  Travis ;  which  cer- 
tainly was  not  strange,  for  nature  had  not  gifted  him 
with  many  charms,  either  of  personal  appearance  or 
manners.     The  rejection  of  his  friendly  proffers  had 


234  ragged  dick;  or, 

caused  him  to  take  a  dislike  to  Dick  and  Henry, 
whom  he  considered  stiff  and  unsocial. 

"What  makes  you  think  it  was  Travis?"  asked 
Fosclick.     "  He  isn't  at  home  in  the  daytime." 

"  But  he  was  to-day.  He  said  he  had  got  a  bad 
cold,  and  had  to  come  home  for  a  clean  handker- 
chief." 

"  Did  you  see  him  ?  "  asked  Dick. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Mooney.  "  Bridget  was  hanging 
out  clothes,  and  I  went  to  the  door  to  let  him  in." 

"I  wonder  if  he  had  a  key  that  would  fit  our 
drawer,"  said  Fosdick. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Mooney.  "The  bureaus  in  the 
two  rooms  are  just  alike.  I  got  'em  at  auction,  and 
most  likely  the  locks  is  the  same." 

"  It  must  have  been  he,"  said  Dick,  looking  to- 
wards Fosclick. 

"Yes,"  said  Fosdick,  "it  looks  like  it." 

"What's  to  be  done?  That's  what  I'd  like  to 
know,"  said  Dick.  "  Of  course  he'll  say  he  hasn't 
got  it ;  and  he  won't  be  such  a  fool  as  to  leave  it  in 
his  room." 

"If  he  hasn't  been  to  the  bank,  it's  all  right,"  said 


STREET  LIFE  TN  NEW  YORK.  235 

Fbsdick.  "You  can  go  there  the  first  thing  to-mor- 
row morning,  and  stop  their  paying  any  money  on 
it." 

"  But  I  can't  get  any  money  on  it  myself,"  said 
Dick.  "  I  told  Tom  Wilkins  I'd  let  him  have  some 
more  money  to-morrow,  or  his  sick  mother'll  have 
to  turn  out  of  their  lodgin's." 

"  How  much  money  were  you  going  to  give  him?" 

"  I  gave  him  three  dollars  to-day,  and  was  goin'  to 
give  him  two  dollars  to-morrow." 

"I've  got  the  money,  Dick.  I  didn't  go  to  the 
bank  this  morning." 

"  All  right.  I'll  take  it,  and  pay  you  back  next 
week." 

"  No,  Dick ;  if  you've  given  three  dollars,  you 
must  let  me  give  two." 

"No,  Fosdick,  I'd  rather  give  the  whole.  You 
know  I've  got  more  money  than  you.  No,  I  haven't, 
either,"  said  Dick,  the  memory  of  his  loss  flashing 
upon  him.  "  I  thought  I  was  rich  this  morning,  but 
uow  I'm  in  destitoot  circumstances." 

"  Cheer  up,  Dick ;   you'll  get  your  money  back." 

"  I  hope  so,"  said  our  hero,  rather  ruefully. 


236  ragged  dick;  OB, 

The  fact  was,  that  our  friend  Dick  was  beginning 
to  feel  what  is  so  often  experienced  by  men  who  do 
business  of  a  more  important  character  and  on  a 
larger  scale  than  he,  the  bitterness  of  a  reverse 
of  circumstances.  "With  one  hundred  dollars  and 
over  carefully  laid  away  in  the  savings  bank, 
he  had  felt  quite  independent.  Wealth  is  com- 
parative, and  Dick  probably  felt  as  rich  as '  many 
men  who  are  worth  a  hundred  thousand  dollars.  He 
was  beginning  to  feel  the  advantages  of  his  steady 
self-denial,  and  to  experience  the  pleasures  of  prop- 
erty. Not  that  Dick  was  likely  to  be  unduly  at- 
tached to  money.  Let  it  be  said  to  his  credit  that  it 
had  never  given  him  so  much  satisfaction  as  when  it 
enabled  him  to  help  Tom  Wilkins  in  his  trouble. 

Besides  this,  there  was  another  thought  that  trou- 
bled him.  When  he  obtained  a  place  he  could  not 
expect  to  receive  as  much  as  he  was  now  making 
from  blacking  boots,  —  probably  not  more  than  three 
dollars  a  week,  —  while  his  expenses  without  clothing 
would  amount  to  four  dollars.  To  make  up  the  de- 
ficiency he  had  confidently  relied  upon  his  savings, 
which  would  be  sufficient  to  carry  him  along  for  a 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  237 

year,  if  necessary.  If  he  should  not  recover  his 
money,  he  would  be  compelled  to  continue  a  boot- 
black for  at  least  six  months  longer ;  and  this  was 
rather  a  discouraging  reflection.  On  the  whole  it  is 
not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Dick  felt  unusually  sober 
this  evening,  and  that  neither  of  the  boys  felt  much 
like  studying. 

The  two  boys  consulted  as  to  whether  it  would  bo 
best  to  speak  to  Travis  about  it.  It  was  not  alto- 
gether easy  to  decide.     Fosdick  was  opposed  to  it. 

" It  will  only  put  him  on  his  guard,"  said  he,  "and 
I  don't  see  as  it  will  do  any  good.  Of  course  he 
will  "deny  it.  We'd  better  keep  quiet,  and  watch 
him,  and,  by  giving  notice  at  the  bank,  we  can 
make  sure  that  he  doesn't  get  any  money  on  it.  If 
he  does  present  himself  at  the  bank,  they  will  know 
at  once  that  he  is  a  thief,  and  he  can  be  arrested." 

This  view  seemed  reasonable,  and  Dick  resolved 
to  adopt  it.  On  the  whole,  he  began  to  think  pros- 
pects were  brighter  than  he  had  at  first  supposed, 
and  his  spirits  rose  a  little. 

"  How'd  he  know  I  had  any  bank-book?  That's 
what  I  can't  make  out,"  he  said. 


238  ragged  dick;  or, 

"  Don't  you  remember?"  said  Fosdick,  after  a  mo- 
ment's thought,  "  we  were  speaking  of  our  savings, 
two  or  three  evenings  since?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick. 

"  Our  door  was  a  little  open  at  the  time,  and  I 
heard  somebody  come  upstairs,  and  stop  a  minute  in 
front  of  it.  It  must  have  been  Jim  Travis.  In  that 
way  he  probably  found  out  about  your  money,  and 
took  the  opportunity  to-day  to  get  hold  of  it." 

This  might  or  might  not  be  the  correct  explana- 
tion.    At  all  events  it  seemed  probable. 

The  boys  were  just  on  the  point  of  going  to  bed, 
later  in  the  evening,  when  a  knock  was  heard  at  the 
door,  and,  to  their  no  little  surprise,  their  neighbor, 
Jim  Travis,  proved  to  be  the  caller.  He  was  a 
sallow-complexioned  young  man,  with  dark  hair  and 
bloodshot  eyes. 

He  darted  a  quick  glance  from  one  to  the  other  as 
he  entered,  which  did  not  escape  the  boys'  notice. 

"How  are  ye,  to-night?"  he  said,  sinking  into 
one  of  the  two  chairs  with  which  the  room  was  scan- 
tily furnished. 

"  Jolly,"  saicl  Dick.     "  How  are  you?" 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  239 

"Tired  as  a  dog,"  was  the  reply.  "Hard  work 
and  poor  pay ;  that's  the  way  with  me.  I  wanted  to 
go  to  the  theatre,  to-night,  but  I  was  hard  up,  and 
couldn't  raise  the  cash." 

Here  he  darted  anothei  quick  glance  at  the  hoys ; 
but  neither  betrayed  anything. 

"  You  don't  go  out  much,  do  you?  "  he  said. 

"  Not  much,"  said  Fosdick.  "  We  spend  our  even- 
ings in  study." 

"  That's  precious  slow,"  said  Travis,  rather  con- 
temptuously. "  What's  the  use  of  studying  so 
much  ?  You  don't  expect  to  be  a  lawyer,  do  you,  or 
anything  of  that  sort  ?  " 

"■JMaybe,"  said  Dick.  "I  haven't  made  up  my 
mind  yet.  If  my  feller- citizens  should  want  me  to 
go  to  Congress  some  time,  I  shouldn't  want  to  dis- 
app'int  'em ;  and  then  readin'  and  writin'  might  come 
handy." 

"Well,"  said  Travis,  rather  abruptly,  "I'm  tired, 
and  I  guess  I'll  turn  in." 

"Good-night,"  said  Fosdick. 

The  boys  looked  at  each  other  as  their  visitor  left 
the  room. 


240  sagged  dick;  ok, 

'  "  He  came  in  to  see  if  we'd  missed  the  bank-book,'* 
said  Dick. 

"And  to  turn  off  suspicion  from  himself,  by  letting 
us  know  he  had  no  money,"  added  Fosdick. 

"That's  so,"  said  Dick.  "  I'd  like  to  have  searched 
them  pockets  of  his." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  241 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

TRACKING  THE  THIEF. 

Fosdick  was  right  in  supposing  that  Jim  Travis 
had  stolen  his  bank-book.  He  was  also  right  in 
supposing  that  that  worthy  young  man  had  come  to 
the  knowledge  of  Dick's  savings  by  what  he  had  ac- 
cidentally overheard.  Now,  Travis,  like  a  very  large 
number  of  young  men  of  his  class,  was  able  to  dis- 
pose of  a  larger  amount  of  money  than  he  was  able 
to  earn.  Moreover,  he  had  no  great  fancy  for  work 
at  all,  and  would  have  been  glad  to  find  some  other 
way  of  obtaining  money  enough  to  pay  his  expenses. 
He  had  recently  received  a  letter  from  an  old  com- 
panion, who  had  strayed  out  to  California,  and  going 
at  once  to  the  mines  had  been  lucky  enough  to  get 
possession  of  a  very  remunerative  claim.  He  wrote 
to  Travis  that  he  had  already  realized  two  thousand 
dollars  from  it,  and  expected  to  make  his  fortune 
within  six  months. 

16 


242  ragged  dick;  or, 

Two  thousand  dollars !  This  seemed  to  Travis  a 
very  large  sum,  and  quite  dazzled  his  imagination. 
He  was  at  once  inflamed  with  the  desire  to  go  out  to 
California  and  try  his  luck.  In  his  present  situation 
he  only  received  thirty  dollars  a  month,  which  was 
probably  all  that  his  services  were  worth,  but  went 
a  very  little  way  towards  gratifying  his  expensive 
tastes.  Accordingly  he  determined  to  take  the  next 
steamer  to  the  land  of  gold,  if  he  could  possibly 
manage  to  get  money  enough  to  pay  the  passage. 

The  price  of  a  steerage  passage  at  that  time  was 
seventy-five  dollars, — not  a  large  sum,  certainly, — 
but  it  might  as  well  have  been  seventy-five  hundred 
for  any  chance  James  Travis  had  of  raising  the 
amount  at  present.  His  available  funds  consisted 
of  precisely  two  dollars  and  a  quarter  ;  of  which  sum, 
one  dollar  and  a  half  was  due  to  his  washerwoman. 
This,  however,  would  not  have  troubled  Travis  much, 
and  he  would,  conveniently  have  forgotten  all  about 
it ;  but,  even  leaving  this  debt  unpaid,  the  sum  at  his 
command  would  not  help  him  materially  towards 
paying  his  passage  money. 

Travis  applied  for  help  to  two  or  three  of  his  com- 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  243 

pardons ;  but  they  were  all  of  that  kind  who  never 
keep  an  account  with  savings  banks,  but  carry  all 
their  spare  cash  about  with  them.  One  of  these 
friends  offered  to  lend  him  thirty-seven  cents,  and 
another  a  dollar ;  but  neither  of  these  offers  seemed 
to  encourage  him  much.  He  was  about  giving  up 
his  project  in  despair,  when  he  learned,  accident- 
ally, as  we  have  already  said,  the  extent  of  Dick's 
savings. 

One  hundred  and  seventeen  dollars !  "Why,  that 
would  not  only  pay  his  passage,  but  carry  him  up  to 
the  mines,  after  he  had  arrived  in  San  Francisco. 
He  could  not  help  thinking  it  over,  and  the  result 
of  this  thinking  was  that  he  determined  to  borrow 
it  of  Dick  without  leave.  Knowing  that  neither  of 
the  boys  were  in  their  room  in  the  daytime,  he  came 
back  in  the  course  of  the  morning,  and,  being  ad- 
mitted by  Mrs.  Mooney  herself,  said,  by  way  of 
accounting  for  his  presence,  that  he  had  a  cold,  and 
had  come  back  for  a  handkerchief.  The  landlady 
suspected  nothing,  and,  returning  at  once  to  her  work 
in  the  kitchen,  left  the  coast  clear. 

Travis  at  once  entered  Dick's  room,  and,  as  there 


244  ragged  dick;  or, 

seemed  to  be  no  other  place  for  depositing  money, 
tried  the  bureau-drawers.  They  were  all  readily 
opened,  except  one,  which  proved  to  be  locked. 
This  he  naturally  concluded  must  contain  the  money, 
and  going  back  to  his  own  chamber  for  the  key  of 
the  bureau,  tried  it  on  his  return,  and  found  to  his 
satisfaction  that  it  would  fit.  When  he  discovered 
the  bank-book,  his  joy  was  mingled  with  disappoint- 
ment. He  had  expected  to  find  bank-bills  instead. 
This  would  have  saved  all  further  trouble,  and  would 
have  been  immediately  available.  Obtaining  mone}'- 
at  the  savings  ba,nk  would  involve  fresh  risk. 
Travis  hesitated  whether  to  take  it  or  not ;  but 
finally  decided  that  it  would  be  worth  the  trouble 
and  hazard. 

He  accordingly  slipped  the  book  into  his  pockef , 
locked  the  drawer  again,  and,  forgetting  all  about 
the  handkerchief  for  which  he  had  come  home,  went 
.  downstairs,  and  into  the  street. 

There  would  have  been  time  to  go  the  savings 
bank  that  day,  but  Travis  had  already  been  absent 
from  his  place  of  business  some  time,  and  did  not 
venture  to  take  the  additional   time  required.     Be- 


STREET  LTFE    IN    NEW  YORK.  245 

sides,  not  being  very  much  used  to  savings  banks, 
never  having  had  occasion  to  use  them,  he  thought 
it  would  be  more  prudent  to  look  over  the  rules  and 
regulations,  and  see  if  he  could  not  get  some  infor- 
mation as  to  the  way  he  ought  to  proceed.  So  the 
day  passed,  and  Dick's  money  was  left  in  safety 
at  the  bank. 

In  the  evening,  it  occurred  to  Travis  that  it  might 
be  well  to  find  out  whether  Dick  had  discovered  his 
loss.  This  reflection  it  was  that  induced  the  visit 
which  is  recorded  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter. 
The  result  was  that  he  was  misled  by  the  boys'  si- 
lence on  the  subject,  and  concluded  that  nothing  had 
yet  been  discovered. 

"  Good ! "  thought  Travis,  with  satisfaction.  "  If 
they  don't  find  out  for  twenty-four  hours,  it'll  be  too 
late,  then,  and  I  shall  be  all  right." 

There  being  a  possibility  of  the  loss  being  discov- 
ered before  the  boys  went  out  in  the  morning,  Travis 
determined  to  see  them  at  that  time,  and  judge 
whether  such  was  the  case.  He  waited,  therefore, 
until  he  heard  the  boys  cone  out,  and  then  opened 
his  own  door. 


246  ragged  dick;  or, 

"  Morning,  gents,"  said  he,  sociably.  "  Going  to 
business?" 

"Yes,"  said  Pick.  "I'm  afraid  my  clerks'll  be 
lazy  if  I  aint  on  band." 

"  Good  joke  ! "  said  Travis.  "  If  you  pay  good 
wages,  I'd  like  to  speak  for  a  place." 

"  I  pay  all  I  get  myself,"  said  Dick.  "  How's 
business  with  you?" 

"  So  so.     "Why  don't  you  call  round,  some  time?" 

"  All  my  evenin's  is  devoted  to  literatoor  and  sci- 
ence," said  Dick.     "  Thank  you  all  the  same." 

"Where  do  you  hang  out ?"  inquired  Travis,  in 
choice  language,  addressing  Fosdick. 

"At  Henderson's  hat  and  cap  store,  on  Broad- 
way." 

"  I'll  look  in  upon  you  some  time  when  I  want  a 
tile,"  said  Travis.  "  I  suppose  you  sell  cheaper  to 
your  friends." 

"  I'll  be  as  reasonable  as  I  can,"  said  Fosdick,  not 
very  cordially  ;  for  he  did  not  much  fancy  having  it 
supposed  by  his  employer  that  such  a  disreputable- 
looking  person  as  Travis  was  a  friend  of  his. 

However,  Travis  had  no  idea  of  showing  himself  at 


STEEET  LIFE   IN  NEW  YORK.  247 

the  Broadway  store,  and  only  said  this  by  way  of 
making  conversation,  and  encouraging  the  boys  to 
be  social. 

"  You  haven't  any  of  you  gents  seen  a  pearl-han- 
dled knife,  have  you?"  he  asked. 

"No,"  said  Fosdick;  "have  you  lost  one?" 

"Yes,"  said  Travis,  with  unblushing  falsehood. 
"I  left  it  on  my  bureau  a  day  or  two  since.  I've 
missed  one  or  two  other  little  matters.  Bridget 
don't  look  to  me  any  too  honest.  Likely  she's  got 
'em." 

"What  are  you  goin'  to  do  about  it?"  said 
Dick. 

"  I'll  keep  mum  unless  I  lose  something  more,  and 
then  I'll  kick  up  a  row,  and  haul  her  over  the  coals. 
Have  you  missed  anything?" 

"  No,"  said  Fosdick,  answering  for  himself,  as  he 
could  do  without  violating  the  truth. 

There  was  a  gleam  of  satisfaction  in  the  eyes  of 
Travis,  as  he  heard  this. 

"  They  haven't  found  it  out  yet,"  he  thought. 
"I'll  bag  the  money  to-day,  and  then  they  may 
whistle  for  it." 


248  ragged  dick;  or, 

Having  no  farther  object  to  serve  in  accompanying 
the  boys,  he  bade  them  good-morning,  and  turned 
down  another  street. 

"  He's  mighty  friendly  all  of  a  sudden,"  said  Dick. 

"Yes,"  said  Fosdick;  "it's  very  evident  what  it 
all  means.  He  wants  to  find  out  whether  you  have 
discovered  your  loss  or  not." 

"  But  he  didn't  find  out." 

"  No ;  we've  put  him  on  the  wrong  track.  He 
means  to  get  his  money  to-day,  no  doubt." 

"  My  money,"  suggested  Dick. 

"I  accept  the  correction,"  said  Fosdick. 

"  Of  course,  Dick,  you'll  be  on  hand  as  soon  as 
the  bank  opens." 

"  In  course  I  shall.     Jim  Travis'll  find  he's  walked 
into  the  wrong  shop." 
•     "  The  bank  opens  at  ten  o'clock,  you  know." 

"  I'll  be  there  on  time." 

The  two  boys  separated. 

"  Good  luck,  Dick,"  said  Fosdick,  as  he  parted 
from  him.     "It'll  all  come  out  right,  I  think." 

"  I  hope  'twill,"  said  Dick. 

He  had  recovered  from  his  temporary  depression, 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  249 

and  made  up  his  mind  that  the  money  would  be 
recovered.  He  had  no  idea  of  allowing  himself 
to  be  outwitted  by  Jim  Travis,  and  enjoyed  already, 
in  anticipation,  the  pleasure  of  defeating  his  ras- 
cality. 

It  wanted  two  hours  and  a  half  yet  to  ten  o'clock, 
and  this  time  to  Dick  was  too  precious  to  be  wasted. 
It  was  the  time  of  his  greatest  harvest.  He  accord- 
ingly repaired  to  his  usual  place  of  business,  suc- 
ceeded in  obtaining  six  customers,  which  yielded 
him  sixty  cents.  He  then  went  to  a  restaurant,  and 
got  some  breakfast.  It  was  now  half-past  nine,  and 
Dick,  feeling  that  it  wouldn't  do  to  be  late,  left  his 
box  in  charge  of  Johnny  Nolan,  and  made  his  way 
to  the  bank. 

The  officers  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  Dick  lin- 
gered on  the  outside,  waiting  till  they  should  come. 
He  was  not  without  a  little  uneasiness,  fearing  that 
Travis  might  be  as  prompt  as  himself,  and  finding 
him  there,  might  suspect  something,  and  so  escape 
the  snare.  But,  though  looking  cautiously  up  and 
down  the  street,  he  could  discover  no  traces  of  the 
supposed  thief.     In  due  time  ten  o'clock  struck,  and 


250  ragged  dick;  on, 

immediately  afterwards  the  doors  of  the  bank  were 
thrown  open,  and  our  hero  entered. 

As  Dick  had  been  in  the  habit  of  making  a  weekly 
visit  for  the  last  nine  months,  the  cashier  had  come 
to  know  him  by  sight. 

"You're  early,  this  morning,  my  lad,"  he  said, 
pleasantly.  "Have  you  got  some  more  money  to 
deposit?    You'll  be  getting  rich,  soon." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Dick.  "My 
bank-book's  been  stole." 

"  Stolen  !  "  echoed  the  cashier.  "  That's  unfortu- 
nate. Not  so  bad  as  it  might  be,  though.  The  thief 
can't  collect  the  money*" 

"That's  what  I  came  to  see  about,"  said  Dick. 
"  I  was  afraid  he  might  have  got  it  already." 

"  He  hasn't  been  here  yet.  Even  if  he  had,  I 
remember  you,  and  should  have  detected  him. 
When  was  it  taken?" 

"Yesterday,"  said  Dick.  "I  missed  it  in  the 
evenin'  when  I  got  home." 

"  Have  you  any  suspicion  as  to  the  person  who 
took  it  ?  "  asked  the  cashier. 

Dick  thereupon  told  all  he  knew  as  to  the  general 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW  YORK.  251 

character  and  suspicious  conduct  of  Jim  Travis,  and 
the  cashier  agreed  with  him  that  he  was  probably 
the  thief.  Dick  also  gave  his  reason  for  thinking 
that  he  would  visit  the  bank  that  morning,  to  with- 
draw the  funds. 

"  Very  good,"  said  the  cashier.  "  "We'll  be  ready 
for  him.     "What  is  the  number  of  your  book?" 

"  No.  5,678,"  said  Dick. 

"  Now  give  me  a  little  description  of  this  Travis 
whom  you  suspect." 

Dick  accordingly  furnished  a  brief  outline  sketch 
of  Travis,  not  particularly  complimentary  to  the 
latter. 

"  That  will  answer.  I  think  I  shall  know  him," 
said  the  cashier.  "  You  may  depend  upon  it  that  he 
shall  receive  no  money  on  your  account.'* 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Dick. 

Considerably  relieved  in  mind,  our  hero  turned 
towards  the  door,  thinking  that  there  would  be  noth- 
ing gained  by  his  remaining  longer,  while  he  would 
of  course  lose  time. 

He  had  just  reached  the  doors,  which  were  of 


252  ragged  dick;  o/e, 

glass,  when  through  them  he  perceived  James  Travis 
himself  just  crossing  the  street,  and  apparently  com- 
ing towards  the  bank.  It  would  not  do,  of  course, 
for  him  to  be  seen. 

"  Here  he  is,"  he  exclaimed,  hurrying  back. 
" Can't  you  hide  me  somewhere?  I  don't  want  to 
be  seen." 

The  cashier  understood  at  once  how  the  land  lay. 
He  quickly  opened  a  little  door,  and  admitted  Dick 
behind  the  counter. 

"  Stoop  down,"  he  said,  "  so  as  not  to  be  seen." 

Dick  had  hardly  done  so  when  Jim  Travis  opened 
the  outer  door,  and,  looking  about  him  in  a  little  un- 
certainty, walked  up  to  the  cashier's  desk. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  253 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

TRAVIS    IS   ARRESTED. 

Jim  Travis  advanced  into  the  bank  with  a  doubt- 
ful step,  knowing  well  that  he  was  on  a  dishonest 
errand,  and  heartily  wishing  that  he  were  well  out 
of  it.  After  a  little  hesitation,  jhe  approached  the 
paying-teller,  and,  exhibiting  the  bank-book,  said, 
"  I  want  to  get  my  money  out." 

The  bank-officer  took  the  book,  and,  after  looking 
at  it  a  moment,  said,  "  How  much  do  you  want?" 

"  The  whole  of  it,"  said  Travis. 

"You  can  draw  out  any  part  of  it,  but  to  draw 
out  the  whole  requires  a  week's  notice." 

"  Then  I'll  take  a  hundred  dollars." 

"  Are  you  the  person  to  whom  the  book  belongs?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  Travis,  without  hesitation. 

"Your  name  is  —  " 

"  Hunter." 

The  bank-clerk  went  to  a  large  folio  volume,  con- 


254  bagged  dick;  or% 

taining  the  names  of  depositors,  and  began  to  turn 
over  the  leaves.  While  he  was  doing  this,  he  man- 
aged to  send  out  a  young  man  connected  with  the 
bank  for  a  policeman.  Travis  did  not  perceive  this, 
or  did  not  suspect  that  it  had  anything  to  do  with 
himself.  Not  being  used  to  savings  banks,  he  sup- 
posed the  delay  only  what  was  usual.  After  a 
search,  which  was  only  intended  to  gain  time  that 
a  policeman  might  be  summoned,  the  cashier  came 
back,  and,  sliding  out  a  piece  of  paper  to  Travis, 
said,  "  It  will  be  necessary  for  you  to  write  an  order 
for  the  money." 

Travis  took  a  pen,  which  he  found  on  the  ledge 
outside,  and  wrote  the  order,  signing  his  name 
"  Dick  Hunter,"  having  observed  that  name  on  the 
outside  of  the  book. 

"Your  name  is  Dick  Hunter,  then?"  said  the  cash- 
ier, taking  the  paper,  and  looking  at  the  thief  over 
his  spectacles. 

"  Yes,"  said  Travis,  promptly. 

"But,"  continued  the  cashier,  "I  find  Hunter's 
age  is  put  down  on  the  bank-book  as  fourteen. 
Surely  you  must  be  more  than  that." 


STREET  LIFE   IJV  NEW  YORK.  255 

Travis  would  gladly  have  declared  that  he  was 
only  fourteen  ;  but,  being  in  reality  twenty-three,  and 
possessing  a  luxuriant  pair  of  whiskers,  this  was 
not  to  be  thought  of.    He  began  to  feel  uneasy. 

"  Dick  Hunter's  my  younger  brother,"  he  said. 
"I'm  getting  out  the  money  for  him." 

"  I  thought  you  said  your  own  name  was  Dick 
Hunter,"  said  the  cashier. 

"  I  said  my  name  was  Hunter,"'  said  Travis,  in- 
geniously.    "  I  didn't  understand  you." 

"  But  you've  signed  the  name  of  Dick  Hunter  to 
this  order.  How  is  that?"  questioned  the  trouble- 
some cashier. 

Travis  saw  that  he  was  getting  himself  into  a  tight 
place ;  but  his  self-possession  did  not  desert  him. 

"  I  thought  I  must  give  my  brother's  name,"  he 
answered. 

"  What  is  your  own  name?  " 

"  Henry  Hunter." 

"  Can  you  bring  any  one  to  testify  that  the  state- 
ment you  are  making  is  correct?" 

"  Yes,  a  dozen  if  you  like,"  said  Travis,  boldly. 
"  Give  me  the  book,  and  I'll  come  back  this  after 


256  ragged  dick;  OB, 

noon.  I  didn't  think  there'd  be  such  a  fuss  about 
getting  out  a  little  money." 

"  Wait  a  moment.  "Why  don't  your  brother  come 
himself  ?  " 

"  Because  he's  sick.  He's  clown  with  the  measles," 
said  Travis. 

Here  the  cashier  signed  to  Dick  to  rise  and  show 
himself.     Our  hero  accordingly  did  so. 

*'  You  will  be  glad  to  find  that  he  has  recovered," 
said  the  cashier,  pointing  to  Dick. 

With  an  exclamation  of  anger  and  dismay,  Travis, 
who  saw  the  game  was  up,  started  for  the  door,  feel- 
ing that  safety  made  such  a  course  prudent.  But  he 
was  too  late.  He  found  himself  confronted  by  a 
burly  policeman,  who  seized  him  by  the  arm,  saying, 
"  Not  so  fast,  my  man.    I  want  you." 

"  Let  me  go,"  exclaimed  Travis,  struggling  to  free 
himself. 

"I'm  sorry  I  can't  oblige  you,"  said  the  officer. 
"You'd  better  not  make  a  fuss,  or  I  may  have  to 
hurt  you  a  little." 

Travis  sullenly  resigned  himself  to  his  fate,  darting 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  257 

a  look  of  rage  at  Dick,  whom  he  considered  the 
author  of  his  present  misfortune. 

"This  is  your  book,"  said  the  cashier,  handing 
back  his  righful  property  to  our  hero.  "  Do  you 
wish  to  draw  out  any  money  ?  " 

"  Two  dollars,"  said  Dick. 

"  Very  well.     Write  an  order  for  the  amount." 

Before  doing  so,  Dick,  who  now  that  he  saw  Travis 
in  the  power  of  the  law  began  to  pity  him,  went  up 
to  the  officer,  and  said,  — 

"Won't  you  let  him  go?  I've  got  my  bank-book 
back,  and  I  don't  want  anything  done  to  him." 

"  Sorry  I  can't  oblige  you,"  said  the  officer  ;  "  but 
I'm  not  allowed  to  do  it.   He'll  have  to  stand  his  trial." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  Travis,"  said  Dick.  "  I  didn't 
want  you  arrested.  I  only  wanted  my  bank-book 
back." 

"  Curse  you !  "  said  Travis,  scowling  vindictively. 
"  Wait  till  I  get  free.     See  if  I  don't  fix  you." 

"  You  needn't  pity  him  too  much,"  said  the  officer. 
"  I  know  him  now.    He's  been  to  the  Island  before." 

"  It's  a  lie,"  said  Travis,  violently. 

"  Don't  be  too  noisy,  my  friend,"  said  the  officer. 
17 


258  bagged  dick;  or* 

"  If  you've  got  no  more  business  here,  we'll  be 
going." 

He  withdraw  with  the  prisoner  in  charge,  and  Dick, 
having  drawn  his  two  dollars,  left  the  bank.  Not- 
withstanding the  violent  words  the  prisoner  had  used 
towards  himself,  and  his  attempted  robbery,  he  could 
not  help  feeling  sorry  that  he  had  been  instrumental 
in  causing  his  arrest. 

"  I'll  keep  my  book  a  little  safer  hereafter,"  thought 
Dick.     "  Now  I  must  go  and  see  Tom  Wilkins." 

Before  dismissing  the  subject  of  Travis  and  his 
theft,  it  may  be  remarked  that  he  was  duly  tried,  and, 
his  guilt  being  clear,  was  sent  to  Blackwell's  Island 
for  nine  months.  At  the  end  of  that  time,  on  his  re- 
lease, he  got  a  chance  to  work  his  passage  on  a  ship 
to  San  Francisco,  where  he  probably  arrived  in  due 
time.  At  any  rate,  nothing  more  has  been  heard  of 
him,  and  probably  his  threat  of  vengeance  against 
Dick  will  never  be  carried  into  effect. 

Eeturning  to  the  City  Hall  Park,  Dick  soon  fell  in 
with  Tom  "Wilkins. 

"How  are  you,  Tom?'*  he  said.  "How's  youi 
mother  ?  " 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  259 

"  She's  better,  Dick,  thank  you.  She  felt  worried 
about  bein'  turned  out  into  the  street ;  but  I  gave  her 
that  money  from  you,  and  now  she  feels  a  good  deal 
easier." 

"  I've  got  some  more  for  you,  Tom,"  said  Dick, 
producing  a  two-dollar  bill  from  his  pocket. 

"  I  ought  not  to  take  it  from  you,  Dick." 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,  Tom.    Don't  be  afraid." 

"  But  you  may  need  it  yourself." 

"  There's  plenty  more  where  that  came  from.'* 

"  Any  way,  one  dollar  will  be  enough.  "With  that 
we  can  pay  the  rent." 

"You'll  want  the  other  to  buy  something  to  eat." 

"  You're  very  kind,  Dick." 

"  I'd  ought  to  be.  I've  only  got  myself  to  take 
care  of." 

"  Well,  I'll  take  it  for  my  mother's  sake.  "When 
you  want  anything  done  just  call  on  Tom  Wilkins." 

"  All  right.  Next  week,  if  your  mother  doesn't  get 
better,  I'll  give  you  some  more." 

Tom  thanked  our  hero  very  gratefully,  and  Dick 
walked  away,  feeling  the  self-approval  which  always 
accompanies  a  generous    and  disinterested  action. 


260  RAGGED  DICK;    OB, 

He  was  generous  by  nature,  and,  before  the  period  at 
which  he  is  introduced  to  the  reader's  notice,  he  fre- 
quently treated  his  friends  to  cigars  and  oyster-stews. 
Sometimes  he  invited  them  to  accompany  him  to  the 
theatre  at  his  expense.  But  he  never  derived  from 
these  acts  of  liberality  the  same  degree  of  satisfaction 
as  from  this  timely  gift  to  Tom  Wilkins.  He  felt 
that  his  money  was  well  bestowed,  and  would  save 
an  entire  family  from  privation  and  discomfort.  Five 
dollars  would,  to  be  sure,  make  something  of  a  differ- 
ence in  the  amount  of  his  savings.  It  was  more  than 
he  was  able  to  save  up  in  a  week.  But  Dick  felt 
fully  repaid  for  what  he  had  done,  and  he  felt  pre- 
pared to  give  as  much  more,  if  Tom's  mother  should 
continue  to  be  sick,  and  should  appear  to  him  to 
need  it. 

Besides  all  this,  Dick  felt  a  justifiable  pride  in  his 
financial  ability  to  afford  so  handsome  a  gift.  A 
year  before,  however  much  he  might  have  desired  to 
give,  it  would  have  been  quite  out  of  his  power  to 
give  five  dollars.  His  cash  balance  never  reached 
that  amount.  It  was  seldom,  indeed,  that  it  equalled 
one  dollar.-     In  more  ways   thau  one  Dick  was  be- 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  261 

ginning  to  reap  the  advantage  of  his  self-denial  and 
judicious  economy. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  'when  Mr.  "Whitney  at 
parting  with  Dick  presented  him  with  five  dollars,  he 
tolcl  him  that  he  might  repay  it  to  some  other  boy 
who  was  struggling  upward.  Dick  thought  of  this, 
and  it  occurred  to  him  that  after  all  he  was  only  pay 
ing  up  an  old  debt. 

"When  Fosdick  came  home  in  the  evening,  Dick  an- 
nounced  his  success  in  recovering  his  lost  money, 
and    described  the  manner  in  which  it  had  bee" 
brought  about. 

"  You're  in  luck,  Dick,"  said  Fosdick.  "  I  guess 
we'd  better  not  trust  the  bureau-drawer  again." 

"  I  mean  to  carry  my  book  round  with  me,"  said 
Dick. 

"  So  shall  I,  as  long  as  we  stay  at  Mrs.  Mooney's. 
I  wish  we  were  in  a  better  place." 

"I  must  go  down  and  tell  her  she  needn't  expect 
Travis  back.     Poor  chap,  I  pity  him !  " 

Travis  was  never  more  seen  in  Mrs.  Mooney's  es* 
tablishment.     He  was  owing  that  lady  for  a  fort- 


2G2  '  ragged  dick;  OB, 

night's  rent  of  his  room,  "which  prevented  her  feeling 
much  compassion  for  him.  The  room  was  soon  after 
let  to  a  more  creditable  tenant,  who  proved  a  less 
troublesome  neighbor  than  his  predecessor. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  263 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 


DICK  RECEIVES  A  LETTER. 


It  was  about  a  week  after  Dick's  recovery  of  hia 
bank-book,  that  Fosdick  brought  home  with  him  in 
the  evening  a  copy  of  the  "  Daily  Sun." 

"  "Would  you  like  to  see  your  name  in  print,  Dick? " 
he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  who  was  busy  at  the  wash-stand, 
endeavoring  to  efface  the  marks  which  his  day's  work 
had  left  upon  his  hands.  "  They  haven't  put  me  up 
for  mayor,  have  they  ?  'Cause  if  they  have,  I  shan't 
accept.  It  would  interfere  too  much  with  my  pri- 
vate business." 

"No,"  said  Fosdick,  "they  haven't  put  you  up 
for  office  yet,  though  that  may  happen  sometime. 
But  if  you  want  to  see  your  name  in  print,  here  it 
is." 

Dick  was  rather  incredulous,  but,  having  dried  his 
hands  on  the  towel,  took  the  paper,  and  following 


264  bagged  dick;  OJt, 

the  directions  of  Fosdick's  finger,  observed  in  the 
list  of  advertised  letters  the  name  of  "  Ragged 
Dick." 

"  By  grac.ous,  so  it  is,"  said  he.  "  Do  you  s'pose 
it  means  me  ?  " 

"I  don't  know  of  any  other  Ragged  Dick,  —  do 
you?" 

"  No,"  said  Dick,  reflectively ;  "  it  must  be  me. 
But  I  don't  know  of  anybody  that  would  be  likely  to 
write  to  me. " 

"Perhaps  it  is  Frank  Whitney,"  suggested  Fos- 
dick,  after  a  little  reflection.  "  Didn't  he  promise  to 
write  to  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  "  and  he  wanted  me  to  write  to 
him." 

"  Where  is  he  now  ?  " 

"  He  was  going  to  a  boarding-school  in  Connecti- 
cut, he  said.     The  name  of  the  town  was  Barnton." 

"  Very  likely  the  letter  is  from  him." 

"  I  hope  it  is.  Frank  was  a  tip-top  boy,  and  he 
was  the  first  that  made  me  ashamed  of  bein'  so  igno- 
rant and  dirty." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  265 

"You  had  better  go  to  the  post-office  to-morrow 
morning,  and  ask  for  the  letter." 

"  P'r'aps  they  won't  give  it  to  me." 

"  Suppose  you  wear  the  old  clothes  you  used  to  a 
year  ago,  when  Frank  first  saw  you  ?  They  won't 
have  any  doubt  of  your  being  Ragged  Dick  then." 

"  I  guess  I  will.  I'll  be  sort  of  ashamed  to  be 
seen  in  'em  though,"  said  Dick,  who  had  considera- 
ble more  pride  in  a  neat  personal  appearance  than 
when  we  were  first  introduced  to  him. 

"It  will  be  only  for  one  day,  or  one  morning," 
said  Fosclick. 

"  I'd  do  more'n  that  for  the  sake  of  gettin'  a  letter 
from  Frank.     I'd  like  to  see  him." 

The  next  morning,  in  accordance  with  the  sugges- 
tion of  Fosdick,  Dick  arrayed  himself  in  the  long 
disused  Washington  coat  and  Napoleon  pants,  which 
he  had  carefully  preserved,  for  what  reason  he  could 
hardly  explain. 

When  fairly  equipped,  Dick  surveyed  himself  in 
the  mirror,  —  if  the  little  seven-by-nine-inch  looking- 
glass,  with  which  the  room  was  furnished,  deserved 
the  name.     The  result  of  the  survey  was  not  on  the 


266  ragged  dick;  or, 

whole  a  pleasing  one.  To  tell  the  truth,  Dick  was 
quite  ashamed  of  his  appearance,  and,  on  opening  the 
chamber-door,  looked  around  to  see  that  the  coast 
was  clear,  not  being  willing  to  have  any  of  his  fellow- 
boarders  see  him  in  his  present  attire. 

He  managed  to  slip  out  into  the  street  unobserved, 
and,  after  attending  to  two  or  three  regular  customers 
who  came  down-town  early  in  the  morning,  he  made 
his  way  down  Nassau  Street  to  the  post-office.  He 
passed  along  until  he  came  to  a  compartment  on 
which  he  read  advertised  letters,  and,  stepping  up 
to  the  little  window,  said,  — 

"  There's  a  letter  for  me.  I  saw  it  advertised  in 
the  '  Sun '  yesterday." 

"  What  name?  "  demanded  the  clerk. 

"  Ragged  Dick,"  answered  our  hero. 

"  That's  a  queer  name,"  said  the  clerk,  surveying 
him  a  little  curiously.     "  Are  you  Ragged  Dick?  " 

"If  you  don't  believe  me,  look  at  my  clo'es,"  said 
Dick. 

"  That's  pretty  good  proof,  certainly,"  said  the 
clerk,  laughing.  "  If  that  isn't  your  name,  it  deserves 
to  be." 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  267 

"  I  believe  in  dressin'  up  to  your  name,"  said 
Dick. 

"  Do  you  know  anyone  in  Barnton,  Connecticut?" 
asked  the  clerk,  who  had  by  this  time  found  the 
letter.  ' 

"Yes,"  said  Dick.  "I  know  a  chap  that's  at 
boardin'-school  there." 

"  It  appears  to  be  in  a  boy's  hand.  I  think  it  must 
be  yours." 

The  letter  was  handed  to  Dick  through  the  win- 
dow. He  received  it  eagerly,  and  drawing  back  so 
as  not  to  be  in  the  way  of  the  throng  who  were  con- 
stantly applying  for  letters,  or  slipping  them  into  the 
boxes  provided  for  them,  hastily  opened  it,  and  began 
to  read.  As  the  reader  may  be  interested  in  the  con- 
tents of  the  letter  as  well  as  Dick,  we  transcribe  it 
below. 

It  was  dated  Barnton,  Conn.,  and  commenced 
thus,  — 

"Dear  Dick, — You  must  excuse  my  addressing 
this  letter  to  '  Eagged  Dick ; '  but  the  fact  is,  I  don't 
know  what  your  last  name  is,  nor  where  your  live. 


268  ragged  dick;  or, 

I  am  afraid  there  is  not  much  chance  of  your  getting 
this  letter ;  but  I  hope  you  will.  I  have  thought  of 
you  very  often,  and  wondered  how  you  were  getting 
along,  and  I  should  have  written  to  you  before  if  I 
had  known  where  to  direct.  ■ 

"  Let  me  tell  you  a  little  about  myself.  Barnton  ia 
a  very  pretty  country  town,  only  about  six  miles 
from  Hartford.  The  boarding-school  which  I  attend 
is  under  the  charge  of  Ezekiel  Munroe,  A.  M.  He 
is  a  man  of  about  fifty,  a  graduate  of  Yale  College, 
and  has  always  been  a  teacher.  It  is  a  large  two- 
story  house,  with  an  addition  containing  a  good  many 
small  bed-chambers  for  the  boys.  There  are  about 
twenty  of  us,  and  there  is  one  assistant  teacher  who 
teaches  the  English  branches.  Mr.  Munroe,  or  Old 
Zeke,  as  we  call  him  behind  his  back,  teaches  Latin 
and  Greek.  I  am  studying  both  these  languages, 
because  father  wants  me  to  go  to  college. 

"  But  you  won't  be  interested  in  hearing  about  our 

itudies.     I  will  tell  you  how  we  amuse  ourselves. 

There  are  about  fifty  acres  of  land  belonging  to  Mr. 
Munroe ;  so  that  we  have  plenty  of  room  for  play. 

About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house  there  is  a 


STREET  LIFE    IN  NEW    YORK.  209 

good-sized  pond.  There  is  a  large,  round-bottoniecl 
boat,  which  is  stout  and  strong.  Every  Wednesday 
and  Saturday  afternoon,  when  the  weather  is  good, 
we  go  out  rowing  on  the  pond.  Mr.  Barton,  the  as- 
sistant teacher,  goes  with  us,  to  look  after  us.  In  the 
summer  we  are  allowed  to  go  in  bathing.  In  the 
winter  there  is  splendid  skating  on  the  pond. 

"  Besides  this,we  play  ball  a  good  deal,  and  we  have 
various  other  plays.  So  we  have  a  pretty  good  time, 
although  we  study  pretty  hard  too.  I  am  getting  on 
very  well  in  my  studies.  Father  has  not  decided  yet 
where  he  will  send  me  to  college. 

"  I  wish  you  were  here,  Dick.  I  should  enjoy  your 
company,  and  besides  I  should  like  to  feel  that  you 
were  getting  an  education.  I  think  you  are  naturally 
a  pretty  smart  boy  ;  but  I  suppose,  as  you  have  to 
earn  your  own  living,  you  don't  get  much  chance  to 
learn.  I  only  wish  I  had  a  few  hundred  dollars  of 
my  own.  I  would  have  you  come  up  here,  and  attend 
school  with  us.  If  I  ever  have  a  chance  to  help  you 
in  any  way,  you  may  be  sure  that  I  will. 

"  I  shall  have  to  wind  up  my  letter  now,  as  I  have 
to  hand  in  a  composition  to-morrow,  on  the  life  and 


2 70  BAG GET)   DICK;    OBy 

character  of  Washington.  I  might  say  that  I  have 
a  friend  who  wears  a  coat  that  once  belonged  to  the 
general.  But  I  suppose  that  coat  must  be  worn  out 
by  this  time.  I  don't  much  like  writing  composi- 
tions.    I  would  a  good  deal  rather  write  letters. 

"  I  have  written  a  longer  letter  than  I  meant  to.  I 
hope  you  will  get  it,  though  I  am  afraid  not.  If  you 
do,  you  must  be  sure  to  answer  it,  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. You  needn't  mind  if  3^0111*  writing  does  look 
like   '  hens-tracks,'  as  you  told  me  once. 

"  Good-by,  Dick.     You  must  always  think   of  me, 

as  your  very  true  friend, 

"  Frank  Whitney." 

Dick  read  this  letter  with  much  satisfaction.  It  is 
always  pleasant  to  be  remembered,  and  Dick  had  so 
few  friends  that  it  was  more  to  him  than  to  boys  who 
are  better,  provided.  Again,  he  felt  a  new  sense  of 
importance  in  having  a  letter  addressed  to  him.  It 
was  the  first  letter  he  had  ever  received.  If  it  had 
been  sent  to  him  a  year  before,  he  would  not  have 
been  able  to  read  it.  But  now,  thanks  to  Fosdick's 
instructions,  he  could  not  only  read  writing,  bat  he 
could  write  a  very  good  hand  himself. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  271 

There  was  one  passage  in  the  letter  which  pleased 
Dick.  It  was  where  Frank  said  that  if  he  had  the 
money  he  would  pay  for  his  education  himself. 

"  He's  a  tip-top  feller,"  said  Dick.      "  I  wish  I 
'  could  see  him  ag'in." 

There  were  two  reasons  why  Dick  would  like  to 
have  seen  Frank.  One  was,  the  natural  pleasure  he 
would  have  in  meeting  a  friend  ;  but  he  felt  also  that 
he  would  like  to  have  Frank  witness  the  improve- 
ment he  had  made  in  his  studies  and  mode  of  life. 

"  He'd  find  me  a  little  more  'spectable  than  when 
he  first  saw  me,"  thought  Dick. 

Dick  had  by  this  time  got  up  to  Printing  House 
Square.  Standing  on  Spruce  Street,  near  the  "  Trib- 
une" office,  was  his  old  enemy,  Micky  Maguire. 

It  has  already  been  said  that  Micky  felt  a  natural 
enmity  towards  those  in  his  own  condition  in  life 
who  wore  better  clothes  than  himself.  For  the  last 
nine  months,  Dick's  neat  appearance  had  excited  the 
ire  of  the  young  Philistine.  To  appear  in  neat  at- 
tire and  with  a  clean  face  Micky  felt  was  a  piece  of 
presumption,  and   an  assumption  of  superiority  on 


272  ragged  dick;  or, 

the  part  of  our  hero,  and  he  termed  it  "  try  in'  to  be 
a  swell." 

Now  his  astonished  eyes  rested  on  Dick  in  his  an- 
cient attire,  which  was  very  similar  to  his  own.  It 
was  a  moment  of  triumph  to  him.  He  felt  that 
"pride  had  had  a  fall,"  and  he  could  not  forbear 
reminding  Dick  of  it. 

"  Them's  nice  clo'es  you've  got  on,"  said  he,  sar- 
castically, as  Dick  came  up. 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick,  promptly.  "  I've  been  em- 
ployin'  your  tailor.  If  my  face  was  only  dirty  we'd 
be  taken  for  twin  brothers." 

"  So  you've  give  up  tryin'  to  be  a  swell  ? " 

"  Only  for  this  partic'lar  occasion,"  said  Dick. 
"  I  wanted  to  make  a  fashionable  call,  so  I  put  on 
my  regimentals." 

"  I  don't  b'lieve  you've  got  any  better  clo'es,"  said 
Micky. 

"  All  right,"  said  Dick,  '•  I  won't  charge  you 
nothin'  for  what  you  believe." 

Here  a  customer  presented  himself  for  Micky,  and 
Dick  went  back  to  his  room  to  change  his  clothes, 
oefore  resuming  business. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  273 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

DICK  WRITES  HIS  FIRST  LETTER. 

When  Fosdick  reached  home  in  the  evening,  Dick 
iisplayed  his  letter  with  some  pride. 

"  It's  a  nice  letter,"  said  Fosdick,  after  reading 
it.     "  I  should  like  to  know  Frank." 

"  I'll  bet  you  would,"  said  Dick.    "  He's  a  trump." 

"When  are  you  going  to  answer  it?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Dick,  dubiously.  "I  never 
writ  a  letter." 

"  That's  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't.  There's 
always  a  first  time,  you  know." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,"  said  Dick. 

"  Get  some  paper  and  sit  down  to  it,  and  you'll 
find  enough  to  say.  You  can  do  that  this  evening 
instead  of  studying." 

"  If  you'll  look  it  over  afterwards,  and  shine  it 
up  a  little." 

18 


274  ragged  dick;  0.R, 

"  Yes,  if  it  needs  it ;  but  I  rather  think  Frank 
would  like  it  best  just  as  you  wrote  it." 

Dick  decided  to  adopt  Fosdick's  suggestion.  He 
had  very  serious  doubts  as  to  his  ability  to  write  a 
letter.  Like  a  good  many  other  boys,  he  looked  upon 
it  as  a  very  serious  job,  not  reflecting  that,  after  all, 
letter- writing  is  nothing  but  talking  -upon  paper. 
Still,  in  spite  of  his  misgivings,  he  felt  that  the  let- 
ter ought  to  be  answered,  and  he  wished  Frank  to 
hear  from  him.  After  various  preparations,  he  at 
last  got  settled  down  to  his  task,  and,  before  the 
evening  was  over,  a  letter  was  written.  As  the  first 
letter  which  Dick  had  ever  produced,  and  because  it 
was  characteristic  of  him,  my  readers  may  like  to 
read  it. 

Here  it  is, — 

"  Dear  Frank, — I  got  your  letter  this  mornin',  and 
was  very  glad  to  hear  you  hadn't  forgotten  Ragged 
Dick.  I  aint  so  ragged  as  I  was.  Openwork  coats 
and  trowsers  has  gone  out  of  fashion.  I  put  on  the 
Washington  coat  and  Napoleon  pants  to  go  to  the 
post-office,  for  fear   they  wouldn't  think  T   wr\s    the 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  275 

boy  that  was  meant.  On  my  way  back  I  received 
the  congratulations  of  my  intimate  friend,  Micky 
Magiiire,  on  my  improved  appearance. 

"  I've  give  up  sleepin'  in  boxes,  and  old  wagons, 
findin'  it  didn't  agree  with  my  constitution.  I've 
hired  a  room  in  Mott  Street,  and  have  got  a  private 
tooter,  who  rooms  with  me  and  looks  after  my 
studies  in  the  evenin'.  Mott  Street  aint  very  fash- 
ionable ;  but  my  manshun  on  Fifth  Avenoo  isn't  fin- 
ished yet,  and  I'm  afraid  it  won't  be  till  I'm  a  gray- 
haired  veteran.  I've  got  a  hundred  dollars  towards 
it,  which  I've  saved  up  from  my  earnin's.  I  haven't 
forgot  what  you  and  your  uncle  said  to  me,  and  I'm 
tryin'  to  grow  up  'spectable.  I  haven't  been  to  Tony 
Pastor's,  or  the  Old  Bowery,  for  ever  so  long.  I'd 
rather  save  up  my  money  to  support  me  in  my 
old  age.  When  my  hair  gets  gray,  I'm  goin'  to 
knock  offblackin'  boots,  and  go  into  some  light,  gen- 
teel employment,  such  as  keepin'  an  apple-stand,  or 
disseminatin'  pea-nuts  among  the  people. 

"  I've  got  so  as  to  read  pretty  well,  so  my  tooter 
says.  I've  been  studyin'  geography  and  grammar 
also.     I've  made  such  astonishin'  progress  that  I  can 


276  ragged  dick;  or, 

tell  a  noun  from  a  conjunction  as  far  away  as  I  can 
see  'em.  Tell  Mr.  Munroe  that  if  lie  wants  an  ac- 
complished teacher  in  his  school,  he  can  send  for  me, 
and  I'll  come  on  by  the  very  next  train.  Or,  if  he 
wants  to  sell  out  for  a  hundred  dollars,  I'll  buy  the 
whole  concern,  and  agree  to  teach  the  scholars  all  I 
know  myself  in  less  than  six  months.  Is  teachin' 
as  good  business,  generally  speakin',  as  blackin' 
boots?  My  private  tooter  combines  both,  and  is 
makin'  a  fortun'  with  great  rapidity.  He'll  be  as 
rich  as  Astor  some  time,  if  he  only  lives  long  enough. 

"I  should  think  you'd  have  a  bully  time  at  your 
school.  I  should  like  to  go  out  in  the  boat,  or  play 
ball  with  you.  When  are  you  coram'  to  the  city?  I 
wish  you'd  write  and  let  me  know  when  you  do,  and 
I'll  call  and  see  you.  I'll  leave  my  business  in  the 
hands  of  my  numerous  clerks,  and  go  round  with 
you.  There's  lots  of  things  you  didn't  see  when  you 
was  here  before.  They're  getting  on  fast  at  the 
Central  Park.  It  looks  better  than  it  did  a  year 
ago. 

"I  aint  much  used  to  writin'  letters.  As  this  is 
the  first  one  I  ever  wrote,  I  hope  you'll  excuse  the 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  277 

mistakes.  I  hope  you'll  write  to  me  again  soon.  I 
can't  write  so  good  a  letter  as  you ;  but  I'll  do  my 
best,  as  the  man  said  when  he  was  asked  if  he  could 
swim  over  to  Brooklyn  backwards.  Good-bj'-,  Frank. 
Thank  you  for  all  your  kindness.  Direct  your  next 
letter  to  No.  —  Mott  Street. 
"Your  true  friend, 

"  Dick  Hunter." 

When  Dick  had  written  the  last  word,  he  leaned 
back  in  his  chair,  and  surveyed  the  letter  with  much 
satisfaction. 

"  I  didn't  think  I  could  have  wrote  such  a  long  let- 
ter, Fosdick,"  said  he. 

"  Written  would  be  more  grammatical,  Dick,"  Sug- 
gested his  friend. 

"  I  guess  there's  plenty  of  mistakes  in  it,"  said 
Dick.     "Just  look  at  it,  and  see." 

Fosdick  took  the  letter,  and  read  it  over  care- 
fully. 

"Yes,  there  are  some  mistakes,"  he  said  ;  "but  it 
sounds  so  much  like  you  that  1  think  it  would  be 
better  to  let  it  go  just  as  it  is.     It  will  be  more  likely 


278  ragged  dick;  or, 

to  remind  Frank  of  what  you  were  when  he  first  saw 
you." 

"Is  it  good  enough  to  send?"  asked  Dick,  anx 
iously. 

"  Yes ;  it  seems  to  me  to  be  quite  a  good  letter 
It  is  written  just  as  you  talk.  Nobody  but  you  couIg 
have  written  such  a  letter,  Dick.  I  think  Frank  will 
be  amused  at  your  proposal  to  come  up  there  as 
teacher." 

"  P'r'aps  it  would  be  a  good  idea  for  us  to  open  a 
seleck  school  here  in  Mott  Street,"  said  Dick,  hu- 
morously. "  We  could  call  it  '  Professor  Fosdick 
and  Hunter's  Mott  Street  Seminary.'  Boot-blackinJ 
taught  by  Professor  Hunter." 

The  evening  was  so  far  advanced  that  Dick  decided 
to  postpone  copying  his  letter  till  the  next  evening. 
By  this  time  he  had  come  to  have  a  very  fair  hand- 
writing, so  that  when  the  letter  was  complete  it 
really  looked  quite  creditable,  and  no  one  would  have 
suspected  that  it  was  Dick's  first  attempt  in  this  line. 
Our  hero  surveyed  it  with  no  little  complacency.  In 
fact,  he  felt  rather  proud  of  it,  since  it  reminded  him 
of  the  great  progress  he  had  made.     He  carried  it 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  279 

down  to  the  post-office,  and  deposited  it  with  his  own 
hands  in  the  proper  box.  Just  on  the  steps  of  the 
building,  as  as  he  was  coming  out,  he  met  Johnny 
Nolan,  who  had  been  sent  on  an  errand  to  Wall 
Street  by  some  gentleman,  and  was  just  returning. 

"What  are  you  doin'  down  here,  Dick?"  asked 
Johnny. 

"  I've  been  mailin'  a  letter." 

"  Who  sent  you  ?  " 

"  Nobody." 

"  I  mean,  who  writ  the  letter?  " 

"  I  wrote  it  myself." 

"Can  you  write  letters?"  asked  Johnny,  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"Why  shouldn't  I?" 

"  I  didn't  know  you  could  write.    I  can't." 

"  Then  you  ought  to  learn." 

"  I  went  to  school  once ;  but  it  was  too  hard  work, 
bo  I  give  it  up." 

"  You're  lazy,  Johnny,  —  that's  what's  the  matter. 
How'd  you  ever  expect  to  know  anything,  if  you 
don't  try?" 

"  I  can't  learn." 


280  ragged  dick;  or, 

"  You  can,  if  you  want  to." 

Johnny  Nolan  was  evidently  of  a  different  opin- 
ion. He  was  a  good-natured  boy,  large  of  his  age, 
with  nothing  particularly  bad  about  him,  but  utterly 
lacking  in  that  energy,  ambition,  and  natural  sharp- 
ness, for  which  Dick  was  distinguished.  He  was  not 
adapted  to  succeed  in  the  life  which  circumstances 
had  forced  upon  him  ;  for  in  the  street-life  of  the  me- 
tropolis a  boy  needs  to  be  on  the  alert,  and  have  all 
his  wits  about  him,  or  he  will  find  himself  wholly  dis- 
tanced by  his  more  enterprising  competitors  for  pop- 
ular favor.  To  succeed  in  his  profession,  humble  as 
it  is,  a  boot-black  must  depend  upon  the  same  quali- 
ties which  gain  success  in  higher  walks  in  life.  It 
was  easy  to  see  that  Johnny,  unless  very  much 
favored  by  circumstances,  would  never  rise  much 
above  his  present  level.  For  Dick,  we  cannot  help 
hoping  much  better  things. 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW   YORK.  281 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

AN      EXCITING     ADVENTURE 

Dick  now  began  to  look  about  for  a  position  in  a 
store  or  counting-room.  Until  be  should  obtain  one 
he  determined  to  devote  half  the  day  to  blacking 
boots,  not  being  willing  to  break  in  upon  his  small 
capital.  He  found  that  he  could  earn  enough  in  half 
a  day  to^  pay  all  his  necessary  expenses,  including 
the  entire  rent  of  the  room.  Fosdick  desired  to  pay 
his  half;  but  Dick  steadily  refused,  insisting  upon 
paying  so  much  as  compensation  for  his  friend's 
services  as  instructor. 

It  should  be  added  that  Dick's  peculiar  way  of 
speaking  and  use  of  slang  terms  had  been  somewhat 
modified  by  his  education  and  his  intimacy  with 
Henry  Fosdick.  Still  he  continued  to  indulge  in 
them  to  some  extent,  especially  when  he  felt  like 
joking,  and  it  was  natural  to  Dick  to  joke,  as  my 
readers  have  probably  found  out  by  this  time.     Still 


282  ragged  dick;  or, 

his  manners  were  considerably  improved,  so  that  he 
was  more  likely  to  obtain  a  situation  than  when  first 
introduced  to  our  notice. 

Just  now,  however,  business  was  very  dull,  and 
merchants,  instead  of  hiring  new  assistants,  were 
disposed  to  part  with  those  already  in  their  employ. 
After  making  several  ineffectual  applications,  Dick 
began  to  think  he  should  be  obliged  to  stick  to  his 
profession  until  the  next  season.  But  about  this 
time  something  occurred  which  considerably  im- 
proved his  chances  of  preferment. 

This  is  the  way  it  happened. 

As  Dick,  with  a  balance  of  more  than  a  hundred 
dollars  in  the  savings  bank,  might  fairly  consider 
himself  a  youug  man  of  property,  he  thought  himself 
justified  in  occasionally  taking  a  half  holiday  from 
business,  and  going  on  an  excursion.  On  Wednes- 
day afternoon  Henry  Fosdick  was  sent  by  his  em- 
ployer on  an  errand  to  that  part  of  Brooklyn  near 
Greenwood  Cemetery.  Dick  hastily  dressed  himself 
in  his  best,  and  determined  to  accompany  him. 

The  two  boys  walked  down  to  the  South  Ferry,     . 
and,  paying  their  two  cents  each,  entered  the  ferry- 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  283 

boat.  They  remained  at  the  stern,  and  stood  by  the 
railing,  watching  the  great  city,  with  its  crowded 
wharves,  receding  from  view.  Beside  them  was  a 
gentleman  with  two  children,  —  a  girl  of  eight  and  a 
little  boy  of  six.  The  children  were  talking  gayly  to 
their  father.  While  he  was  pointing  out  some  object 
of  interest  to  the  little  girl,  the  boy  managed  to 
creep,  unobserved,  beneath  the  chain  that  extends 
across  the  boat,  for  the  protection  of  passengers,  and, 
stepping  incautiously  to  the  edge  of  the  boat,  fell 
over  into  the  foaming  water. 

At  the  child's  scream,  the  father  looked  up,  and, 
with  a  cry  of  horror,  sprang  to  the  edge  of  the  boat. 
He  would  have  plunged  in,  but,  being  unable  to  swim, 
would  only  have  endangered  his  own  life,  without 
being  able  to  save  his  child. 

"  My  child  ! "  he  exclaimed  in  anguish,  —  "  who  will 
save  my  child?  A  thousand  —  ten  thousand  dollars 
to  any  one  who  will  save  him ! " 

There  chanced  to  be  but  few  passengers  on  board 
at  the  time,  and  nearly  all  these  were  either  in  the 
cabins  or  standing  forward.  Among  the  few  who 
saw  the  child  fall  was  our  hero. 


284:  bagged  dick;  on, 

Now  Dick  was  an  expert  swimmer.  It  was  an 
accomplishment  which  he  had  possessed  for  years, 
and  he  no  sooner  saw  the  boy  fall  than  he  resolved  to 
rescue  him.  His  determination  was  formed  before  he 
heard  the  liberal  offer  made  by  the  boy's  father. 
Indeed,  I  must  do  Dick  the  justice  to  say  that,  in  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  he  did  not  hear  it  at  all, 
nor  would  it  have  stimulated  the  alacrity  with  which 
he  sprang  to  the  rescue  of  the  little  boy. 

Little  Johnny  had  already  risen  once,  and  gone 
under  for  the  second  time,  when  our  hero  plunged  in. 
He  was  obliged  to  strike  out  for  the  boy,  and  this 
took  time.  He  reached  him  none  too  soon.  Just  as 
he  was  sinking  for  the  third  and  last  time,  he  caught 
him  by  the  jacket.  Dick  was  stout  and  strong,  but 
Johnny  clung  to  him  so  tightly,  that  it  was  with 
great   difficulty  he   was   able  to   sustain  himself. 

"Put  your  arms  round  my  neck,"  said  Dick. 

The  little  boy  mechanically  obeyed,  and  clung  with 
a  grasp  strengthened  by  his  terror.  In  this  position 
Dick  could  bear  his  weight  better.  But  the  ferry- 
boat was  receding  fast.  It  was  quite  impossible  to 
reach  it.     The  father,  his  face  pale  with  terror  and 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  285 

anguish,  and  his  hands  clasped  in  suspense,  saw  the 
brave  boy's  struggles,  and  prayed  with  agonizing 
fervor  that  he  might  be  successful.  But  it  is  proba- 
ble, for  they  were  now  midway  of  the  river,  that  both 
Dick  and  the  little  boy  whom  he  had  bravely  under- 
taken to  rescue  would  have  been  drowned,  had  not  a 
row-boat  been  fortunately  near.  The  two  men  who 
were  in  it  witnessed  the  accident,  and  hastened  to  the 
rescue  of  our  hero. 

"  Keep  up  a  little  longer,"  they  shouted,  bending 
to  their  oars,  "  and  we  will  save  you." 

Dick  heard  the  shout,  and  it  put  fresh  strength  into 
him.  He  battled  manfully  with  the  treacherous  sea, 
his  eyes  fixed  longingly  upon  the  approaching  boat. 

"  Hold  on  tight,  little  boy,"  he  said.  "  There's  a 
boat  coming." 

The  little  boy  did  not  see  the  boat.  His  eyes  were 
closed  to  shut  out  the  fearful  water,  but  he  clung  the 
closer  to  his  young  preserver.  Six  long,  steady 
strokes,  and  the  boat  dashed  along  side.  Strong 
hands  seized  Dick  and  his  youthful  burden,  and  drew 
them  into  the  boat,  both  dripping  with  water. 

"  God  be  thanked  !  "  exclaimed  the  father,  as  from 


286  BAGGED  DICK;    OR, 

the  steamer  lie  saw  the  child's  rescue.  "  That  brave 
bo3''  shall  be  rewarded,  if  I  sacrifice  my  whole  fortune 
to  compass  it." 

"You've  had  a  pretty  narrow  escape,  young  chap," 
said  one  of  the  boatman  to  Dick.  "  It  was  a  pretty 
tough  job  you  undertook." 

"  Yes,"  said  Dick.  "  That's  what  I  thought  when 
I  was  in  the  water.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  I 
don't  know  what  would  have  'come  of  us." 

"  Anyhow  you're  a  plucky  boy,  or  you  wouldn't 
have  dared  to  jump  into  the  water  after  this  little 
chap.     It  was  a  risky  thing  to  do." 

"  I'm  used  to  the  water,"  said  Dick,  modestly.  "  I 
didn't  stop  to  think  of  the  danger,  but  I  wasn't  going 
to  see  that  little  fellow  drown  without  tryin'  to  save 
him." 

The  boat  at  once  headed  for  the  ferry  wharf  on  the 
Brooklyn  side.  The  captain  of  the  ferry-boat,  see- 
ing the  rescue,  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  stop  his 
boat,  but  kept  on  his  way.  The  whole  occurrence 
took  place  in  less  time  than  I  have  occupied  in  tell- 
ing it. 

The  father  was  waiting  on  the  wharf  to  receive 


STREET  LIFE   IN  NEW   YORK.  2S  7 

his  little  boy,  with  what  feelings  of  gratitude  and  joy 
can  be  easily  understood.  With  a  burst  of  happy 
tears  he  clasped  him  to  his  arms.  Dick  was  about  to 
withdraw  modestly,  but  the  gentleman  perceived  the 
movement,  and,  putting  down  the  child,  came  for- 
ward, and,  clasping  his  hand,  said  with  emotion, 
"  My  brave  boy,  I  owe  you  a  debt  I  can  never  repay. 
But  for  your  timely  service  I  should  now  be  plunged 
into  an  anguish  which  I  cannot  think  of  without 
a   shudder," 

Our  hero  was  ready  enough  to  speak  on  most  occa- 
sions, but  always  felt  awkward  when  he  was  praised. 

"It  wasn't  any  trouble,"  he  said,  modestly.  "I 
can  swim  like  a  top." 

"  But  not  many  boys  would  have  risked  their  lives 
for  a  stranger,"  said  the  gentleman.  "  But,"  he 
added  with  a  sudden  thought,  as  his  glance  rested  on 
Dick's  dripping  garments,  "  both  you  and  my  little 
boy  will  take  cold  in  wet  clothes.  Fortunately  I 
have  a  friend  living  close  at  hand,  at  whose  house 
you  will  have  an  opportunity  of  taking  off  your 
clothes,  and  having  them  dried." 

Dick  protested  that  he  never  took  cold  ;  but  Fos- 


288  ragged  dick;  or, 

dick,  who  had  now  joined  them,  and  who,  it  is  needless 
to  say,  had  been  greatly  alarmed  at  Dick's  danger, 
joined  in  urging  compliance  with  the  gentleman's 
proposal,  and  in  the  end  our  hero  had  to  yield.  His 
new  friend  secured  a  hack,  the  driver  of  which  agreed 
for  extra  recompense  to  receive  the  dripping  boys 
into  his  carriage,  and  they  were  whirled  rapidly  to  a 
pleasant  house  in  a  side  street,  where  matters  were 
quickly  explained,  -and  both  boys  were  put  to  bed. 

"I  aint  used  to  goin'  to  bed  quite  so  early," 
thought  Dick.  "  This  is  the  queerest  excursion  I  ever 
took." 

Like  most  active  boys  Dick  did  not  enjoy  the  pros- 
pect of  spending  half  a  da}^  in  bed ;  but  his  confine 
ment  did  not  last  as  long  as  he  anticipated. 

In  about  an  hour  the  door  of  his  chamber  was 
opened,  and  a  servant  appeared,  bringing  a  new  and 
handsome  suit  of  clothes  throughout. 

"You  are  to  put  on  these,"  said  the  servant  to 
Dick  ;  "  but  you  needn't  get  up  till  you  feel  like  it." 

"  Whose  clothes  are  they?"  asked  Dick. 

"  They  are  yours." 

*'  Mine  !  Where  did  they  come  from?" 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  289 

"  Mr.  Rockwell  sent  out  and  bought  them  for  you. 
They  are  the  same  size  as  your  wet  ones." 

"Is  he  here  now?" 

"No.  He  bought  another  suit  for  the  little  boy, 
and  has  gone  back  to  New  York.  Here's  a  note  he 
asked  me  to  give  you." 

Dick  opened  the  paper,  and  read  as  follows,  — 

"  Please  accept  this  outfit  of  clothes  as  the  first  in- 
stalment of  a  debt  which  I  can  never  repay.  I  have 
asked  to  have  your  wet  suit  dried,  when  you  can 
reclaim  it.  Will  you  oblige  me  by  calling  to-morrow 
at  my  counting  room,  No.  — ,  Pearl  Street. 
"  Your  friend, 

"James  Rockwell." 
19 


290  ragged  dick;  OS, 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

CONCLUSION. 

When  Dick  was  dressed  in  his  new  suit,  he  sur- 
veyed his  figure  with  pardonable  complacency.  It 
was  the  best  he  had  ever  worn,  and  fitted  him  as  well 
as  if  it  had  been  made  expressly  for  him. 

"  He's  done  the  handsome  thing,"  said  Dick  to 
himself;  "but  there  wasn't  no 'casion  for  his  givin' 
me  these  clothes.  My  luckj7  stars  are  shinin'  pretty 
bright  now.  Jumpin'  into  the  water  paj^s  better  than 
shinin'  boots ;  but  I  don't  think  I'd  like  to  try  it 
more'n  once  a  week." 

About  eleven  o'clock  the  next  morning  Dick  re- 
paired to  Mr.  Rockwell's  counting-room  on  Pearl 
Street.  He  found  himself  in  front  of  a  large  and 
handsome  warehouse.  The  counting-room  was  on 
the  lower  floor.  Our  hero  entered,  and  found  Mr. 
Rockwell  sitting  at  a  desk.    No  sooner  did  that  gen- 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  291 

tleman  see  him  than  he  arose,  and,  advancing,  shook 

Dick  by  the  hand  in  the  most  friendly  manner. 

"My  young  friend,"  he  said,  "you  have  done  me 
i 
so  great  service  that  I  wish  to  be  of  some  service  to 

you  in  return.     Tell  me   about  yourself,  and  what 

plans  or  wishes  you  have  formed  for  the  future." 

Dick  frankly  related  his  past  history,  and  told  Mr. 
Eockwell  of  his  desire  to  get  into  a  store  or  counting- 
room,  and  of  the  failure  of  all  his  applications  thus 
far.  The  merchant  listened  attentively  to  Dick's 
statement,  and,  when  he  had  finished,  placed  a  sheet 
of  paper  before  him,  and,  handing  him  a  pen,  said, 
1  Will  you  write  your  name  on  this  piece  of  paper  ?  " 

Dick  wrote  in  a  free,  bold  hand,  the  name  Eichard 
Hunter.  He  had  very  much  improved  in  his  penman- 
ship, as  has  already  been  mentioned,  and  now  had  no 
cause  to  be  ashamed  of  it. 

Mr.  Rockwell  surveyed  it  approvingly. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  enter  my  counting-room 
as  clerk,  Eichard  ?  "  he  asked. 

Dick  was  about  to  say  "  Bully,"  when  he  recol- 
lected himself,  and  answered,  "  Very  much." 


292  magged  dick;  oh, 

"  I  suppose  you  know  something  of  aiithmetic,  do 
you  not  ? " 
.  "Yes,  sir." 

"  Then  j^ou  may  consider  yourself  engaged  at  a 
salary  of  ten  dollars  a  week.  You  may  come  next 
Monday  morning." 

"  Ten  dollars !  "  repeated  Dick,  thinking  he  must 
have  misunderstood. 

"  Yes  ;  will  that  be  sufficient?" 

"It's  more  than  I  can  earn,"  said  Dick,  honestly. 

"  Perhaps  it  is  at  first,"  said  Mr.  Rockwell,  smil- 
ing ;  "  but  I  am  willing  to  pay  you  that.  »I  will  be- 
sides advance  you  as  fast  as  your  progress  will 
justify  it." 

Dick  was  so  elated  than  he  hardly  restrained  him- 
self from  some  demonstration  which  would  have 
astonished  the  merchant ;  but  he  exercised  self-con- 
trol, and  only  said,  "  I'll  try  to  serve  you  so  faith- 
fully, sir,  that  you  won't  repent  having  taken  me  into 
your  service." 

"  And  I  think  you  will  succeed,"  said  Mr.  Rock- 
well, encouragingly.     "  I  will  not  detain  you  any 


STREET  LIFE  IJV  NEW  YORK.  293 

longer,  for  I  have  some  important  business  to  attend 
to.     I  shall  expect  to  see  you  on  Monday  morning." 

Dick  left  the  counting-room,  hardly  knowing 
whether  he  stood  on  his  head  or  his  heels,  so  over- 
joyed was  he  at  the  sudden  change  in  his  fortunes. 
Ten  dollars  a  week  was  to  him  a  fortune,  and  three 
times  as  much  as  he  had  expected  to  obtain  at  first. 
Indeed  he  would  have  been  glad,  only  the  day  before, - 
to  get  a  place  at  three  dollars  a  week.  He  reflected 
that  with  the  stock  of  clothes  which  he  had  now  on 
hand,  he  could  save  up  at  least  half  of  it,  and  even 
then  live  better  than  he  had  been  accustomed  to  do  ; 
so  that  his  little  fund  in  the  savings  bank,  instead  of 
being  diminished,  would  be  steadily  increasing. 
Then  he  was  to  be  advanced  if  he  deserved  it.  It 
was  indeed  a  bright  prospect  for  a  boy  who,  only  a 
year  before,  could  neither  read  nor  write,  and  de- 
pended for  a  night's  lodging  upon  the  chance  hospi- 
tality of  an  alley-way  or  old  wagon.  Dick's  great 
ambition  to  "grow  up 'spectable "  seemed  likely  to 
be  accomplished  after  all. 

"  I  wish  Fosdick  was   as  well  off  as  I   am,"  he 
thought  generously.     But  he  determined  to  help  bis 


294  bagged  dick;  on, 

less  fortunate  friend,  and  assist  him  up  the  ladder  as 
he  advanced  himself. 

When  Dick  entered  his  room  on  Mott  Street,  he 
discovered  that  some  one  else  had  been  there  before 
him,  and  two  articles  of  wearing  apparel  had  clisap- 
peared. 

"  By  gracious  !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  somebody's  stole 
my  Washington  coat  and  Napoleon  pants.  Maybe 
it's  an  agent  of  Barnum's,  who  expects  to  make  a 
fortun'  by  exhibitin'  the  valooable  wardrobe  of  a  gen- 
tleman of  fashion." 

Dick  did  not  shed  many  tears  over  his  loss,  as,  in 
his  present  circumstances,  he  never  expected  to  have 
any  further  use  for  the  well-worn  garments.  It  may 
be  stated  that  he  afterwards  saw  them  adorning  the 
figure  of  Micky  Maguire  ;  but  whether  that  estimable 
young  man  stole  them  himself,  he  never  ascertained. 
As  to  the  loss,  Dick  was  rather  pleased  that  it  had 
occurred.  It  seemed  to  cut  him  off  from  the  old 
vagabond  life  which  he  hoped  never  to  resume. 
Henceforward  he  meant  to  press  onward,  and  rise 
as  high  as  possible. 

Although  it  was  yet  only  noon,  Dick  did  not  go 


STREET  LIFE  IN  NEW  YORK.  295 

out  again  with  his  brush.  He  felt  that  it  was  time  to 
retire  from  business.  He  would  leave  his  share  of 
the  public  patronage  to  other  boys  less  fprtunate  than 
himself.  That  evening  Dick  and  Fosdick  had  a  long 
conversation.  Fosdick  rejoiced  heartily  in  his 
friend's  success,  and  on  his  side  had  the  pleasant 
news  to  communicate  that  his  pay  had  been  advanced 
to  six  dollars  a  week. 

"  I  think  we  can  afford  to  leave  Mott  Street  now," 
he  continued.  "  This  house  isn't  as  neat  as  it  might 
be,  and  I  should  like  to  live  in  a  nicer  quarter  of  the 
city." 

"  All  right,"  said  Dick.  "  We'll  hunt  up  a  new 
room  to-morrow.  I  shall  have  plenty  of  time,  hav- 
ing retired  from  business.  I'll  try  to  get  my  reg'lar 
customers  to  take  Johnny  Nolan  in  my  place.  That 
boy  hasn't  any  enterprise.  He  needs  somebody  to 
look  out  for  him." 

"  You  might  give  him  your  box  and  brush,  too, 
Dick." 

"No,"  said  Dick;  "I'll  give  him  some  new  ones, 
but  mine  I  want  to  keep,  to  remind  me  of  the  hard 


296  BAGGED  DICK. 

times  I've  had,  when  I  was  an  ignorant  boot-black, 
and  never  expected  to  be  anything  better." 

"  When,  in  short,  you  were  '  Ragged  Dick.'  You 
must  drop  that  name,  and  think  of  yourself  now 
as"  — 

"  Richard  Hunter,  Esq.,"  said  our  hero,  smiling. 

"  A  young  gentleman  on  the  way  to  fame  and  for-, 
tune,"  added  Fosdick. 


Here  ends  the  story  of  Ragged  Dick.  As  Fosdick 
said,  he  is  Ragged  Dick  no  longer.  He  has  taken  a 
step  upward,  and  is  determined  to  mount  still  higher. 
There  are  fresh  adventures  in  store  for  him,  and  for 
others  who  have  been  introduced  in  these  pages. 
Those  who  have  felt  interested  in  his  early  life  will 
find  his  history  continued  in  a  new  volume,  forming 
the  second  of  the  series,  to  be  called,  — 

Fame  and  Fortune  ; 

OR, 

The  Progress  oe  Richard  Hunter. 


-----_ 


